


Till I Touch The Sky

by name_me_regret



Series: Things That Go Knock In The Night [2]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Child Abuse, Child Death (nothing graphic), F/M, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Intern Peter Parker, Irondad, M/M, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Whump, Peter Parker has Asthma, Protective May Parker (Spider-Man), Supernatural Abilities, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, homophobic language/slurs, spiderson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:14:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 48,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24493324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/name_me_regret/pseuds/name_me_regret
Summary: Peter is having weird dreams, and on top of that, May has a new boyfriend that Peter just does not like, and then adding on his ever increasing health problems... Well, Peter’s life seems pretty shitty right now.Then he meets Tony Stark and he gets offered an internship, and things start looking better. However, he soon realizes that his dreams are more real than he could have imagined.
Relationships: May Parker (Spider-Man) & OC, May Parker (Spider-Man) & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Oc, Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Wade Wilson
Series: Things That Go Knock In The Night [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1562146
Comments: 42
Kudos: 103





	1. A Bit Of Fairy Dust

**Author's Note:**

> I wasn’t planning on posting this until it was finished, (because it’s taken over my life and I can’t work on anything till I finish this) but wanted to post it for Tom Holland’s birthday. Also, it’s the start of Pride Month! I want to work on finally finishing Saving Grace and get started on the sequel of Martin Child.
> 
> Here’s some [art](https://name-me-regret.tumblr.com/post/619562232685182976/from-he-makes-him-happy-peter-parker-meeting) of Harley and Peter meeting in He Makes Him Happy fanfiction on my tumblr, so check that out.
> 
> I’m thinking of six chapters for this, and I hope I can stick to that this time. Hope y’all like this story. Leave me a comment and let me know.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter starts having some weird dreams after a fall...

**Till I Touch The Sky  
Chapter One:** _A Bit Of Fairy Dust_

\- ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

_”Yeah, yeah, and the wind is talkin’  
Yeah, yeah, for the very first time  
With a melody that pulls you toward it  
Paintin’ pictures of paradise_

_Sayin’ rise up to the light in the sky, yeah  
Watch the light lift your heart up  
Burn your flame through the night_

_Whoa, spirit  
Watch the heavens open, yeah  
Spirit, can you hear it callin’?  
Yeah_

_Yeah, yeah, and the water’s crashin’  
Trying to keep your head up high  
While you’re tremblin’, that’s when the magic happens  
And the stars gather by  
By your side...”_

_~SPIRIT - Beyoncé_

\- ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

_April 02, 2015, Thursday_  
  
Peter and May Parker were a small family unit, just two of them. It had been them against the world ever since Ben had died. However, he knew that May struggled to make ends meet, Peter wasn't stupid. In fact, Peter Parker was quite the genius. Although, that could be debated since he didn't see this coming, not even a little bit.  
  
May Parker started dating.  
  
He supposed he couldn't blame her, because everyone needed a companion and she was perhaps lonely. Also, ever since Ben had died, the burden of the bills and mortgage on the house had fallen on her. She’d been unable to make the payments, which is why they was now living at this apartment, since they’d lost Ben’s parents house.

So, he could understand that she needed help, and the worst part was that Christopher seemed like a real upstanding guy. He had a doctorate and after working for a big corporation was starting up his own medical tech company. He also knew how to cook and was able to get Peter's nebulizer that he used during the night for a cheaper price they could afford.  
  
Peter hated having asthma the most, especially since it was hard on him when the elevator broke in their building and he was forced to walk up the stairs. That's what he was doing now, climbing up the stairs as he huffed and puffed, and by the time he made it to their floor, he'd ran out of breath.  
  
The teenager leaned against the wall by the door for a few moments, feeling his face heat up as the twin brother and sister from down the hall passed by and eyed him with disgust. Peter knew he was grossly out of shape when a few flights of steps had him winded, but when his lungs were weak, he couldn't really exercise.  
  
Peter straightened when the two had passed him, having dropped his head as soon as Riley and Hailey (the twins) had spotted him, having felt his face heat up in embarrassment when they’d seen him struggling to breathe. He'd already recovered after a few moments, but had waited until they had entered the stairwell. Now, he shifted his backpack back onto his shoulders, taking out his house keys and entering his apartment. When he got there, he saw that the usual clutter around the house had been cleaned up, his few LEGO sculptures they’d been able to afford (cheap ones with less than a hundred pieces) had been moved to a small work table in the corner, out of the way.

He tried not to let it bug him, since it had been on the floor before and anyone could step on a loose piece of his latest project. It was not fun to step on a LEGO, and Peter should know from personal experience. So, he supposed it was a good thing that Christopher had moved his structures onto a small table and off the floor.

The teenager huffed as he kicked his tennis shoes off at the door, not in the best of moods due to the elevator being out, and then the twins (who were both so pretty with their brown hair and dark green eyes) giving him those looks. He hated his asthma, so much and wished to just be rid of it, or his stupid weak lungs, and his stupid allergies. Peter Parker just wanted to leave his whole stupid, weak body behind.

Peter fumbled for his inhaler as he started to get worked up, taking an inhale and feeling as his airways opened up. He waited a moment before he straightened and tossed his bag against the work table, cursing when one of the structures was knocked on its side. The teen moved over to fix it, hoping none of the pieces had been knocked off. It was the car he’d built from the Bricks On A Roll bucket, which had many wheels and the ability to make different structures. He’d done the red car on the front, a motorcycle, and the ice cream cart as well. He wasn’t sure if his was missing pieces, but it didn’t have the big ice cream cone piece as shown on the pack. Well, judging by how shitty his luck was, it was likely that his was the only one without it.

As he moved away, he failed to realize one of the wheels was missing from the red car, and hissed as he stepped on it. He stumbled back, tripped on his backpack and fell, hitting his head on the work table.

 _‘Whoa!’_ Peter exclaimed as he moved his hands over himself, trying to see if he’d broken something. His head felt fine, in fact, he felt great! The constant pressure he always felt on his airway wasn’t present, and wondered if the fall had somehow miraculously cured him. Maybe, it was possible.

He turned around and froze. Peter should’ve known that his shitty Parker Luck would kick in. Because miracles didn’t happen to Peter Parker.

There in front of him, was his body on the floor with blood on his forehead where it’d struck the work table. He was looking at his body from the outside, so... did this meant he was dead?

 _‘Aww, come on!’_ Peter cried out.

Peter hummed as he tried to figure this out, because as far as he could tell, he wasn’t dead. It didn’t help that he was currently floating over his body like a damn ghost. However, he could tell that his body was still breathing, if the way his chest was moving up and down was any indication.

So, not dead.

If that was true, then what was happening right now?

His thought process was cut off as he heard the key in the lock, and glanced at it. His eyes widened as he saw his aunt come through the door and glanced back at his body, and knew this was going to be bad. Peter winced as she screamed and rushed to his side.

“Peter?! Oh baby, wake up!” May sobbed, hands going to his forehead and flinching away from the blood there. She fumbled for her cell phone, her hands shaking so badly that she was barely able to dial 911.

 _‘May, I’m right here. I’m alright,’_ Peter tried to tell her, floating over to her, but when he tried to touch her, his hand passed though her. He gasped and flinched back as if burned, looking at his hand and then at his body as May caressed his face ever so gently. If he could cry, he would, but as he was now, he only felt panic and terror, and a sorrow so profound that he curled up from how intense it felt.

He didn’t understand what was happening to him. Peter just wanted to be wrapped in his aunt’s warm embrace. He wanted all this to be over. Then, without knowing how, he slept and then he felt like he was falling; falling so very fast.

\- ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

Peter’s eyes snapped open and he gasped in a breath, hand going to his throat and he couldn’t breathe! He heard a scraping sound and then a hand on his and he flinched away.

“Peter, you’re fine! Look at me, baby. It’s May,” a familiar voice said. His eyes snapped toward her, and immediately slumped down in relief when he realized it was his Aunt May. She pulled his hand gently away from his throat, fingers soothing away the scratch marks he’d made on himself in his frantic struggle.

“Wha-?” Peter tried to speak, felt a catch in his throat and coughed harshly. The mask over his face fogged up, but he had enough experience with his asthma to know he needed it so didn’t remove it. Peter dreaded to think of how many hours she was missing of work, since his Medicaid would pay for his hospital bills. It was just that it didn’t always pay for all his medicines, and May ended up paying some of it out of pocket. “M’sorry,” he whimpered, hating to be such a burden to her.

May smiled wanly, brushing back a few curls from his face. “It’s alright, baby. We’ll make it somehow. Besides, Chris will help us, you’ll see.”

Peter tried not to let his mood sour at the mention of the man, and instead gave a nod, glad the mask covered most of his face. He might not like the man, but he helped the burden on May. Besides, she was happy with him, and that’s all that mattered.

As he settled back on the bed, feeling his eyes grow heavy, a memory of floating over his body came to him.

 _‘Huh, that was some dream’,_ Peter thought.

Although, he couldn’t shake the feeling that it had felt so real.

\- ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

_April 04, 2015, Saturday_

Peter sighed as he came into the apartment, his whole body feeling lethargic and heavy. He wanted to just get in bed and sleep, but he had been sleeping for two days already and he was tired of it. The teenager had thought they could spend some time together; just his aunt and himself.

“Get the door, May,” Christopher called, and the woman pulled open the door as the man entered carrying Peter’s bag and several bags of groceries in the other. They’d stopped to buy them on the way home, where Peter had been forced to stay in the car since he was still on oxygen and it would have been a hassle to carry the small tank inside the supermarket. So, Peter had stayed in the car and tried not to feel too bitter about it.

Now, it seemed like they wouldn’t have any time alone either, seeing as Chris started to help May unpack the groceries. Peter pulled off the mask, sick and tired of having to cart around the small oxygen tank. Besides, he needed to make sure not to use it all up before the end of the month, which still had two weeks left. “I can... help,” Peter said, wanting to feel useful.

“I got it, bud,” Christopher said as he grabbed up the bags Peter tried to get to help with. “Why don’t you go take a shower and I’ll come set up your nighttime treatment.”

Peter grimaced at that, since he didn’t want to have his nighttime treatment when it was barely 7:30 pm. He was _not_ going to bed that early, no matter what anyone said. “It’s early still,” he argued, coughing a moment later.

God, he hated having these weak lungs.

“That decides it,” Chris said, motioning toward the bathroom. Peter might have been acting childish or immature, but he hated that the man acted like he had any right to order him around, like he was his uncle or his dad. He wasn’t.

“Alright, how about we watch a movie?” May said, stepping between the sullen teenager and her boyfriend. “Peter, you go take a shower while I make the popcorn and Chris sets up the movie. It can be a cheesy horror movie, like Sharknado.”

Peter nodded with a grin, his bad mood quickly vanishing. “You know, Sharknado isn’t too bad, as long as you don’t take it too seriously,” he said, rushing off. He wanted to hurry in taking his shower so he could get back and maybe sit next to May on the loveseat, their usual spot when watching movies before.

He considered it a win when he was able to plop onto the loveseat when coming back from his shower. May pulled him closer for a cuddle instead of telling him to let Chris have his seat. The teenager settled to watch the bad movie, sharing a bowl of popcorn with his aunt.

The movie was bad but entertaining, and he snuggled against his aunt as they watched. This was nice.

He didn’t even realize he’d fallen asleep, until he was suddenly looking down at himself. It seemed May hadn’t realized he’d fallen asleep either, until Chris pointed it out.

“Should I put him to bed?” the man asked May. Peter didn’t like the idea of being carried like a child by the man, and hoped May let him stay right there.

“Yes, that’s probably best,” she told him. Peter frowned as he watched the man lift him up like he weighed nothing, and since he couldn’t do sports to gain any muscle, he probably _did_ weigh nothing.

Peter grumbled as he floated out of the man’s way, starting to get the hang of moving around. He wasn’t paying attention and realized too late that he was going to hit the wall, and his arms lifted to protect his head. Peter cried out instinctively, but he didn’t hit it... he went _through_ the wall.

_‘Holy shit!’_

He flapped his arms around as he was suddenly in the hallway, and then passed through so he was in the apartment in front of theirs, where a young couple and their one year old daughter lived. They were gathered around the table, playing some board game as the little girl giggled. “Ally won!” the little girl cried. The man and woman cheered, lifting her up as she squealed happily.

“And now it’s time to get ready for bed,” the woman declared.

Peter moved on when he was able to get the hang of moving through the air, glancing back a moment and thought he saw the little girl waving at him, but then he’d gone through the wall of the apartment next to them. He realized too late that it was the twin’s apartment, and he was suddenly in a bedroom.

There were posters of One Direction and other bands he wasn’t familiar with. He turned around as he heard a rustling and he squeaked when he saw that it was Hailey, the girl of the duo, and she had clearly just taken a shower since her brown hair was wet and was starting to change as she started to pull off the towel.

 _‘I’m so sorry!’_ he cried even if she couldn’t seem to see or hear Peter, one hand lifting up to cover his eyes as he used the other to make his body move out of the room and through the wall. He was in the hallway a moment before he passed through the opposite wall into the room there. That turned out to be the bathroom, which was being used.

A head popped out of the shower, brown hair wet with water and Peter was dismayed to realize it was Riley, the male twin. And he was in the shower, naked and wet! “Hailey! You finished all the hot water, you asshole!”

“Deal with it!” Hailey’s muffled voice yelled back.

Riley grumbled about annoying sisters and his head disappeared back inside the shower. Peter figured it was a good idea to leave now, before he invaded Riley’s privacy like some pervert. Maybe it was time to go back to his own apartment. Besides, he felt a bit... sick? Which was strange, since he usually didn’t feel anything besides emotions. Then again, this was just a dream. Wasn’t it?

He found his body in the bed, mask from the nebulizer strapped to his face and he felt even sicker now. It was probably that he hated the feel of the medicine and that’s why he felt sick? Maybe next time he went exploring he’d leave the building, even if it felt scary. There was a fuzzy quality to everything, like everything was being seen through a filter, or perhaps a cloud. Also, everything not in his immediate area faded away into darkness. Almost like it ceased to exist.

For now, he floated over to his body as he closed his eyes. After feeling a sensation like falling and falling, everything went dark.

Peter moaned as he woke up, the taste of the medicine in his mouth, coating his throat and it was in his nose. He yanked the mask off his face, wincing since his face felt tender from where the straps had been digging into his skin. Peter felt shaky when he stood, feeling like gravity was weighing even heavier than usual on his body. He barely made it to the bathroom before he was heaving, throwing up the popcorn he’d had earlier. The teenager wasn’t even sure what time it was, but since his aunt didn’t come running to see what the matter was, she must have gone to work.

“Peter, is that you, bud?” he heard Christopher ask, realizing that May must have left him watching over him while she left for her shift. There was a light knock on the bathroom door. “Do you need help?”

He was feeling like crap and even if he knew it wasn’t the man’s fault, he didn’t want his help. “No, go away,” he croaked, his body heaving again but he’d already thrown up the little bit he’d eaten, so it was mostly stomach bile.

The door opened as he was washing out his mouth, and he would have scoffed at the man not listening to him if he’d had any strength left. His medicine had never caused him to get sick like this before, so he wasn’t in the best of moods.

“Come on, let’s get you back to bed,” Chris said, voice almost gentle. He didn’t know why he didn’t like the man, but he... just couldn’t like him. There was something about him that Peter couldn’t put his finger on that made him dislike him. Maybe he was being unfair or childish, but he couldn’t help it.

“I’m fine,” he grumbled, shrugging off his hand as he shuffled back to bed. He climbed back into his twin bed, the mattress already old and a bit too small. Peter just refused to ask for another, since it wasn’t a necessity. He was fine with this for now, and didn’t want to burden May asking for another, bigger bed.

“Maybe I should give you another treatment,” Chris said, glancing at the nebulizer machine.

Peter grimaced at the thought of feeling the medicine coating his throat, mouth and inside his nose again and his stomach protested it. “No,” he said as he shook his head, “I’m fine.” Peter knew he wouldn’t get away with not having the treatment again tomorrow night, but at least for tonight, he wanted to be free of it.

Chris hesitated, before he nodded. “Until tomorrow then,” he said, that smile on his face he hated so much. Peter didn’t understand why he hated it, hated Christopher. Maybe he should give him a chance? After all, he’s the reason they had gotten this newer machine practically for free.

“Yeah... thanks, Chris,” he muttered, pulling his blankets up to his chin.

The man paused as he’d been about to leave and after a moment he turned with a smile. “It’s no problem. I want to help you and your aunt.” He pulled the door closed. “Sweet dreams, Peter.”

Peter’s room was plunged into darkness and he curled up under the blanket. He closed his eyes and hoped he was able to fly away again in his dreams. It was nice being able to get away from his weak body and the problems that it brought him and his aunt.

So, he flew away in his dreams, that felt more real than they should be.-

\- ~ - ~ - ~ - ~


	2. And Away We Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter decides to explore more in his dreams, and in the waking world, he’s finally finished his medical webbing...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was supposed to post this two days ago, but then my mind decided to add another scene at the start of this chapter, cause my muses suck like that. It’s hard to go back when you’re already finished with chapter four, but I managed it somehow. My mind just feels so fried right now, and I wish I could sleep. I’ve been up for too long already ugh If I disappear for a while it’s cause RL stuff is kicking my ass. Hope everyone is being safe out there.
> 
> Leave me a comment and let me know what you think...

**Till I Touch The Sky  
Chapter Two:** _And Away We Go_

\- ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

_”All your life, no  
You couldn't be mad about it  
You've been sailing, sailing oh  
You couldn't be sad about it  
And it's been all this time  
And you haven't lived without-out it  
You are shining, shining it seems though  
That your life, you've found it_

_No oh oh oh  
But you've never  
No, you've never seen the rain..._

_And it gets you down  
But that's okay  
You've been pushed 'round  
You feel the pain  
And when you fall  
Just lean on me  
'Cause you've never known  
Never seen, never smelt, never felt  
The rain...”_

~Never Seen The Rain - Tones and I

\- ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

_April 10, 2015, Friday_

Peter tiptoed out of the apartment even if May couldn’t see him where she was balancing her checkbook at the table. He’d gone to bed early due to having had a hard day at school. Coach Wilson had insisted he at least try to do the fitness challenge even though he had a medical note from the doctor. It hadn’t been so bad when he’d started, since the sit-ups weren’t too strenuous but he just hadn’t been able to do more than ten (that last one hadn’t really counted). It was the pull ups and the rope climb that had done him in, although it was a combination of everything.

He wouldn’t say he had collapsed, but he _had_ needed to lean on Ned as they’d gone to the boy’s locker room to shower and change. It hadn’t been fun to hear Flash taunting him about his pathetic attempt at the challenge (even if he hadn’t done much better). The most embarrassing part was Liz asking if he was alright as they’d left the locker because she was a nice person and Captain of the Decathlon Team, and it was mortifying that she now knew how out of shape he was.

It had thankfully been his last class of the day, so he’d headed straight home, and after finishing his weekend homework, he’d decided a nap wouldn’t be too terrible. His Aunt was off that day and she’d said she’d wake him after she’d finished balancing her checkbook, and as was started to become a constant, he started dreaming again. He dreamed her balancing her checkbook because she’d said she was going to do it.

This was the first time it had been daytime in his dreams, and he guessed it reflected what his mind knew was the time of day. So, since it was daytime, in his dreams it was also daytime.

He knew that Riley and Hailey should be home by then, and decided to pay them a visit. Hopefully, his teenage hormonal mind wouldn’t have them undressing or showering this time. As he passed through his door, he yelped as he had to step back as he was almost run over by the someone rushing to catch the elevator. Then he remembered that he passed through objects and apparently people as he’d seen when he’d seen when he’d tried to touch his Aunt May before.

Peter went through the front door this time, looking around curiously to see what his mind thought the Jones’s house looked like. Of course, since he was very familiar with his own apartment, theirs looked like his except with everything on the opposite side like a mirror. The decorations and other stuff weren’t the same, but the same windows were visible from the front door as you walked in.

That’s where the living room was at, between the door front and the windows, and like their apartment, the couches didn’t exactly match. One was a light brown couch that while it seemed big enough to seat at least four people, there were only two cushions; whether they could be removed was debatable. The other was a light brown loveseat, and both of them were around a a small coffee table that was cluttered in sheet music and some art supplies.

There was an old but well kept acoustic guitar in the corner, leaning against a cabinet with nice looking decorative china. On the other side of the cabinet was an easel, folded up and leaning more against the wall than the cabinet. There was a small paint stained bucket close to it sitting on top of a haphazardly folded folded canvas drop cloth.

He hadn’t known there was someone that could paint, wondering if it was Riley or Hailey. Peter also wondered which one of the two was the musician. For someone that had no artistic talent, Peter thought being able to either paint or make music was amazing.

He carefully made his way out of the living room and down the hallway. This apartment was a bit larger than his and his aunt’s, since it appeared to have three rooms instead of the two theirs had. He poked his head through the first door and saw that it was obviously Miss Jones’s room, judging by the more ‘adult’ things inside. The second door was Riley’s room, since he saw the older boy in there when he peeked inside the ajar door. That meant the room at the end of the hallway was Hailey’s room and the door between both rooms across the hallway was obviously the bathroom.

Peter went into Riley’s room, the opening in the door too narrow for a normal person to pass through, but it wasn’t a problem for him since his body passed through half the door. He was in his bed, obviously doing his homework and Peter wandered curiously over to see what he was working on. His textbook showed that it was Algebra, but not the kind he was taking, since he had all AP classes. He was a grade behind Riley, but he easily understood what he was working on.

 _’Questions ten and eight are wrong,’_ he said even if the other couldn’t hear him. He felt bad that his subconscious thought the other was bad at math, but maybe he’d overheard a conversation and that’s why his mind dreamed it so. Although, he always wondered at how vivid and real his dreams felt and nothing weird, like an elephant suddenly appearing, had happened. He was more use to those kinds of dreams, just not elephants appearing per say; just weird dreams.

A few wet dreams here and there as well, but no one needed to know _that_.

Riley groaned as he got lost on a problem and erased his equation hard enough to almost rip the paper. “I hate math,” he growled, free hand running through his brown hair. He had straight hair and not the unruly curls that Peter had, which he hated since tangles were a hassle.

“It probably hates you too,” a voice said from the doorway. Peter and Riley both turned to see Hailey there. She was wearing a tank top and these tiny shorts that would have made Peter’s cheeks heat up if he’d actually been there. The girl walked over and plopped on the end of her brother’s bed. “I’m pretty sure ten is wrong... maybe eight, I don’t know.”

The teenage boy cursed and erased ten but hesitated on eight. _’It’s wrong,’_ Peter confirmed even if, again, they couldn’t hear him. The other sighed and erased it as well.

“You need a tutor,” Hailey said with a laugh. “I probably do too, cause math probably hates me too.”

He frowned at her. “A tutor? Like who?”

Hailey shrugged, pulling back her hair into a ponytail. “I don’t know.” She thought for a moment and then snapped her fingers. “Oh, I know, that kid down the hallway. I think he goes to a brain school or something. He’s probably pretty good at math.”

Peter felt excitement at realizing she was talking about him. “The twelve year old?” Riley asked with one eyebrow raised.

He felt embarrassed at Riley’s words. He did _not_ look like he was twelve!

She giggled. “I think he’s our age, actually,” she said, rolling her green eyes at her brother’s incredulous face. “Seriously. He’s just got that cute baby face.”

Peter groaned at his face being called ‘baby face’, but smiled at the cute part. Although, he maybe didn’t want a girl to think he was cute. Handsome, yes. Cute, no.

“You should ask him to tutor you.”

He looked at Riley to see what he’d say and Peter wished this was really happening. It would be like a scene out of a manga or something, having your crush asking you to tutor them. Peter wished this wasn’t just a dream. Besides, he wasn’t even sure if the other liked boys anyways, since he liked to think he had a good gaydar being bisexual himself, and he didn’t get that vibe at all from Riley.

“Nah, I don’t want to look stupid in front of some twelve year old,” Riley said with a shake of his head.

Hailey laughed again. “You are stupid, stupid,” she taunted.

Riley promptly kicked her out of his room then, the girl laughing the whole way back to her room. He sat back on his bed, stared at his textbook and then his notebook, closed it with a scoff and tossed them both on top of his backpack. Then he stood and left the room, and Peter went over to look at the textbook to see what kind it was. Just as he thought, a standard Algebra textbook for a high school freshman.

Then Riley was back and Peter’s eyes widened in surprise to see him carrying the guitar. So, he was the musician. That pleased Peter to no end, since while he had no musical talent, he loved music. So, he sat on the edge of the bed, and was glad he’d finally managed to walk and touch things without passing through them. He couldn’t physically move or affect them. At least he didn’t fall through walls anymore, and the floor once, which had been shocking since he’d ended up one floor below.

He strummed on the strings for a while, and then he started on a song that was very familiar. Peter closed as he listened to the notes of the Bruno Mars’s song. Then Riley started to sing in a low scratchy voice that went well with the love song. He was confused at the wording though.

“Oh, his eyes, his eyes make the stars look like they're not shinin',” he sang. “His hair, his hair falls perfectly without him trying. He's so beautiful and I tell him everyday.”

As he continued to sing, he replaced the words in the song that had ‘her’ with ‘him’ and ‘she’ with ‘he’. Peter could just stare at the other as he sang the whole song in this manner. Finally, the song came to an end. “The whole world stops and stares for a while. 'Cause boy, you're amazing just the way you are... Yeah,” he finished off.

When the song ended, Peter had one thought in his mind; Riley was gay. There was no other explanation. He was either gay or he was bisexual like Peter.

Riley had just been talking with Hailey about him, and then he started to sing a well-known love song... to a boy! So, maybe it was slightly possible he had a tiny chance with him. When he’d thought he was straight, he knew there was no way Riley would ever be interested in Peter. It wasn’t even that he was a asthmatic, skinny nerd, but because he was a boy. Now that he knew he was maybe gay, he had a chance; a slim chance but at least it was something.

Then Peter remembered a crucial bit of information: _this was a dream_. A very vivid, coherent dream, but a dream none the less. That meant that his desire for his crush to like him had made his mind insinuate that Riley was gay in his dream. So, that meant that Riley was _not_ gay.

Peter just wished he was.

\- ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

_April 15, 2015, Wednesday_

Peter looked over his formula, confident that it would work this time. He poured the next chemical and started to stir it and then pulled out the stirrer. The fine webs stuck to it, and he fist pumped the air. He was glad he was alone in the lab, or that would have been embarrassing if someone had seen him.

He was just so excited since his project for medical webbing was looking like a reality now that he’d figured out the formula. The only thing he had to figure out now was what he wanted to do with it. He’d presented the idea and a basic outline for his idea and his first attempt of medical webbing at his school’s science fair. He’d won so now he was going to have to present his finished project at the next Stark Expo in May.

When he had won the science fair, he’d gotten a booth at the next Stark Expo. It had blown his mind to learn that he would be able to present his medical webbing where someone would be interested in it, and that his project would be looked over by _the_ Tony Stark.

It was a dream come true for the fourteen year old to meet the man, since he’d been a fan of him. He’d been amazed by the man’s brace actions to shut down the weapon’s manufacturing part of his company, even if that would mean his company taking a hit financially. He had even blown the whistle on his partner selling weapons illegally behind his back, but unfortunately, the man hadn’t wanted to surrender to the police. Stane had taken the CEO, Pepper Potts hostage and had then been sniped to lessen casualties, since he’d already killed the woman’s secretary and two security guards.

Afterwards, there had been no opposition from the board for the company to shut down weapons manufacturing and instead concentrate on other inventions. Even if they had a late start, Stark Industries was now more advanced in phones and digital watches. They had also started to work on prosthetics when one of his friend’s best friends lost an arm while serving in the Army, and Tony Stark’s own best friend had an accident during a training op that left him paralyzed from the waist down. He’d created leg braces that were almost out of the realm of possibilities for this day and age, but he’d managed it.

So, that’s why Peter was sure ( ~~at least hopeful~~ ) that his medical webbing would get him one of those coveted high school internships. Usually, the internships were given to college students, but there was a few rare high school internships/scholarships. A person had to be super smart to get them, and while Peter had never been one to brag about his intelligence, he knew he was smart. Also, if he got an internship or scholarship for school, then he would be able to go to Midtown School of Science and Technology next year and his Aunt wouldn’t have to worry about paying his tuition.

Now that he had a working prototype, he knew that he wouldn’t feel so inadequate.

Peter just had to figure out how to make a dispensing tool for the webbing. Also, it had to be small enough to fit in a first aid kit. Well, maybe making a smaller version would be for later, and right now use a dispensing tool that actually worked.

“Alright, this shouldn’t be too hard,” he muttered, but made sure to keep the dissolvent close by, just in case. He didn’t want to be stuck in the webbing for two hours (more or less).

\- ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

_May 15, 2015, Friday_

Peter hated that he had to have some kind of adult accompanying him as he set up his booth, and since his Aunt May would be working until noon. That meant Christopher had to accompany him until the afternoon. He didn’t let this ruin his enthusiasm though, and he could admit that he had needed help setting up. It wasn’t such a professional look, not like those around him in the other booths, but he was proud of his accomplishment. He’d even tested it already, since he’d cut his hand the other day and had used his medial webbing to stop the flow of blood.

He’d made sure he had recorded it, using his phone camera as he used the web-shooter ( ~~which was a tentative name for it~~ ) to spray on his hand. It had stopped the blood almost immediately, so he could say it was a complete success. When the webbing had dissolved two hours later, his wound had already started to clot and the bleeding had stopped. He’d taken screenshots of the wound in the video, as well as him applying the webbing, and then of the end result when the webbing had dissolved. The printed pictures had been used in his presentation, and he had the web-shooter as well as the canisters of the medical webbing set along the table.

Christopher suddenly bumped hard into the table as he fumbled with the empty box his stuff had come in, and the whole table shook. Peter gasped as the web-shooter almost clattered off the table, but he clumsily managed to grab it before it fell. “Oh shit,” he gasped, clutching the instrument to his chest safely.

“Language, bud,” the man chastised, acting like he hadn’t almost ruined his whole project. After all, he only had one web-shooter, and if it broke, then it was all over. Sure, he could repair it, but he didn’t have the parts at the moment. If it broke, he wouldn’t have a working model for the Expo.

“Christopher, you... you almost broke my model,” he accused, setting the web-shooter down on the table more carefully than necessary.

“Oh, I didn’t notice,” the man said, face the picture perfect expression of remorse. “I’m sorry, buddy.”

For some reason, his apology didn’t sound at all remorseful, but he knew he couldn’t be ungrateful. The man had taken time out of his busy schedule to be here with him today, and without adult supervision, he wouldn’t have been able to be here in time for registration. So, he decided to give the man the benefit of the doubt.

“Yeah, alright,” he sighed, fiddling with the canisters. “T-thanks for coming with me today, Christopher.”

The man had undone the box, folding it up and placing it at the back. It’s almost like he’d already forgotten about the whole incident of him almost destroying his prototype. Peter was annoyed by the whole thing, especially since he’d bitten back his previous anger and even thanked him for his help. “Yeah, no worries, Peter,” he said with a dismissive hand wave.

Peter grit his teeth, and then paused. He took a deep breath and then slowly let it out. He needed to just forget about it, about any frustration and anger. Peter had to concentrate on his project, his presentation in case someone came up and asked him about it. Especially, since he knew that Tony Stark was going to show up at some point and look at some of the exhibitions. There was a chance his could be one of them, so who cared about Christopher? He was just his aunt’s stupid boyfriend.

The start of the Expo wasn’t that great, since the exhibits that were around his were more elaborate and better put together than his own. He shrunk down a little bit every time someone passed his exhibit and laughed or sneered at his cheap prototype. There were a few that _did_ come up and asked him about it, seemed a bit fascinated about the idea of medical webbing. The exhibits at the Expo mostly had to do with technology, so there were likely few went there looking for exhibits that had to do with biology, or in the medical field.

Even so, he knew there were a few. It was just, the chances of them find his in all the ones here were slim. Still, Peter wasn’t going to give up. Just being here was a big opportunity, and he wasn’t going to let it go to waste.

A hush fell over part of the room, which was almost as large as a football field and then shouting started and people started to rush toward the entrance. He realized soon enough what it was, which was that Tony Stark had arrived and was starting on his perusal of the exhibits.

Christopher had been sitting one of the chairs they’d been provided for them, on his phone all this time, which was just fine for Peter. He’d been alternating being on his phone and talking to the few people that came to ask about his project. Now, he ran around his table to peer in the direction of where the other people were running, wanting to go, but knowing full well that he couldn’t leave his booth. Besides, he didn’t trust Christopher to take care of his project, especially after he’d almost broken his web shooter.

Peter couldn’t see anything, but he still felt excited to be in the same place as Tony Stark. The man was a legend in the engineering field, and was one of the scientists he most admired. He frequently collaborated with Dr Bruce Banner, who was very renown physicist and something that Peter wanted to major in when he reached University. That and chemistry, and a minor in mechanical engineering. He’d probably also look into Biology as well. It was just, that he was not from a well off family, so this Expo was his chance to be able to get a scholarship and study whatever he wanted. His medical webbing was equal parts three of the subjects he wanted to study: biology, chemistry, and mechanical engineering.

He didn’t think the man would even look twice at his project, but Peter had the hope that he might. It was a nice thought, even if it wasn’t very realistic.

“I’m going to head to the bathroom for a second,” Christopher abruptly said as he stood. He hardly waited for Peter to nod before he was walking off. The man hadn’t even asked if he’d be alright by himself, or to call him if anything happened. Well, he _would_ be alright since he wasn’t a little kid anymore. He was fourteen already and in a few months he’d be fifteen.

The atmosphere changed suddenly, the constant cacophony of chatter had gone, and he was still working on the smaller version of the dispenser. His aunt had convinced him that when he could, he’d get his invention patented.

Peter lifted his head and saw someone standing in front of his exhibit, and not just anyone, but Tony Stark. Tony Stark who was looking at his poster board and reading the information he’d written on there with cheap markers from the dollar store. The poster board he’d also bought from that same dollar store, and the pictures of his using the medical webbing on his own hand.

“Hey, kid,” the man said when he finally finished studying the poster board, which hadn’t taken long. He was known for being the smartest man in the world, and reading a poster board wouldn’t take him too long. “You’re the winner of the science fair from Midtown Middle?” Peter nodded dumbly, not able to say anything with the famous man right in front of him. He was half afraid that he’d start fanboying and look like a total idiot.

“So, tell me about this... medical webbing idea.” He tapped the pictures. “It obviously works, judging by the pictures. I’m nothing if not skeptical, so how about a demonstration?”

“A-a demonstration?” Peter stuttered, not understanding. “I got... a video of it if...” He paused as Tony reached into his pocket and took out a Swiss Army knife. It looked like the kind that might be given to those in the Army, but he wondered why Mr. Stark would have one. He pulled open the blade and to Peter’s horror, he cut into his palm.

The crowd behind him was shocked at the man’s actions and some called for a medic. As for Peter, he stared at the man as his blood quickly started spilling from the shallow cut. “Well, someone is bleeding. What can your medical webbing do, kid?”

Peter snapped out of his shock, reached for his web shooter, snapped it around his wrist, pointed and pressed the button with his ring and middle finger. _Thwip!_ The webbing shot out of and hit the man’s bleeding palm dead on, the webbing immediately turned partially red, but that was it. The bleeding was stopped.

Tony whistled as he turned his hand around and the webbing stayed in place, even when he shook his hand as he tried to dislodge it. He touched the top of it, and it stretched away from the clump covering his cut, but even then it didn’t pull away from the cut like a bandaid might. He used his knife to cut it off his finger before putting it away. “That’s mighty impressive. How long does this last?”

The teenager let his hand drop at his side, his other hand pushing his glasses back up his nose, and he felt the eyes of the other people around them on him. His heart was beating wildly and he took a deep, slow breath to keep from suffering an asthma attack from his nerves. “A-about two hours,” he told him.

He nodded and held his hand out. “Could I see the dispenser?”

“Y-yeah, sure!” Peter hastily took it off, fumbling with the latch and feeling his cheeks fill with color and heat. He handed it over and the man tried to snap it onto his wrist, but found that the kid’s wrist was more slender than his own.

“Made for your wrist, so not everyone can use it.” He tapped on the board where the rough draft of the smaller dispenser was drawn. “This indicates that this isn’t the finished prototype,” he said as he lifted the larger web shooter. Peter nodded. “What about a severed limb? Do you think it would be able to stop the bleeding on such a large extremity?”

“Please don’t cut anything off, Mr. Stark,” Peter fretted, eyeing the pocket that he’d put the knife back inside after he’d cut his palm.

Tony chuckled. “Not even I’m not eccentric as to cut a body part for a demonstration,” he said. He titled his head toward Peter.

“Oh good,” the boy sighed. “And yes, I believe it would be enough to stop the bleeding on such a large area, and the severed limb as well. The tensile strength of it is pretty strong.” He held his hand out and Tony the web-shooter over, and Peter snapped it on his wrist, stepped out of his booth and then lifted his head, spotted a support beam above their heads that he was sure was close enough for the webbing to reach. He aimed and pressed the mechanism and sure enough, it stuck to it, and he used the special glove (red colored) he’d designed so it wouldn’t stick to it and jumped up a bit, grabbing onto the webbing. Peter hung there for a moment, the webbing holding his weight even as he kicked his feet to swing back and forth.

Peter let go, the glove not sticking as he landed back on the floor. He gave it to Mr. Stark when he held out his hand, and the man slipped on the glove as it stretched to fit his larger hand. He grabbed the webbing and yanked on it lightly, before he snapped his arm back as hard as he could. The webbing held.

“Well, I’ll be damned. Happy, try ripping this off.” He stepped aside and handed the glove to his bodyguard, a burly man with a stern expression on his features. He put on the glove to tried to rip the webbing away, the muscles on his arm bulged as he groaned, but the webbing refused to budge. “I’m sold. What’s your name, kid?”

“Peter, sir. Peter Parker.”

Tony flashed him a grin, slipping his sunglasses off at last. He took out a card from a wallet in the inside pocket of his Tom Ford suit. “Here’s my number. Have your guardian call and we’ll see what you can do in a real lab.”

Peter took the card eagerly, looking over the series of numbers on there as well as what appeared to be the man’s personal email address. It was made from a special titanium material and the Stark Industries logo and everything else had been engraved on there. Peter thought it was most impressive.

“See ya around, Mr. Parker,” he said with a wave, starting to move on to the other exhibits.

“Yes! Thank you, Mr. Stark!”

“Call me Tony. My father was Mr. Stark.”

“Of course, Mr. Tony!”

The man laughed and shook his head, and then he was gone.

Christopher returned a few minutes later. “Your aunt should be here soon. I’m gonna held out. Will you be fine by yourself for a minute?” the man asked. Peter looked at the clock on the wall nearby and saw that it was almost 1pm. He noticed the card in his hand. “Hmm, what’s that?” he asked as he reached for it.

Peter snapped his hand back, shoving it into his pocket. “Nothing, just a part of my web-shooter.”

The man’s eyes narrowed a bit, glanced in the direction where Tony Stark had gone and shrugged. “Alright. I’ll see you later, bud.” He grabbed his messenger bag that he’d left behind and walked off without so much as a wave, but Peter had already gone back turned his attention back to the card as he pulled it out of his pocket. He sat down and a dopey grin crossed his face, fist pumping in the air in excitement.

“Whoa, kiddo, something good happen?” May’s laughing voice asked.

Peter jumped to his feet, face alight with happiness. “May! You won’t believe what happened!” He started to tell her with great detail about meeting Tony Stark and how he’d been interested in his idea.

Peter might have needed to use his inhaler after a while, but he didn’t let even that bring his spirits down. They called the next day even if it was Saturday, and Peter wasn’t even surprised when someone named Friday answered.

They set up a interview for Monday after school, which as it turned out, was just a technicality. Mr. Stark had apparently already given him a scholarship for his medical webbing idea, and even had the papers sent over for him to have it patented.-


	3. The Dark Side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The man with the ugly aura is just part of his dream. He isn’t real...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was supposed to post early this morning, but I fell asleep. It’s hard when one sleeps during the day, but oh well. This chapter was supposed to be longer, but had to cut it. Then my muses decided to add a scene just like last time, so I had to do that really quick. This isn’t proofread, but I just didn’t have too much time. Hope it’s alright.

**Till I Touch The Sky  
Chapter Three:** _The Dark Side_

\- ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

_”Looking for heaven  
under the sky, you and I  
Barely alive  
Beautiful words from angels  
that fall when they fly  
Sold us a lie_

_Running from the shadow  
lost in the night  
Gotta be brave  
and have no fear  
Fighting for the fire  
wait for the light_   
_Gotta be brave_   
_'cause I need you here_

_In the darkness_   
_In the darkness_   
_I will find you...”_

~The Darkness - Built By Titan

\- ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

_May 31, 2015, Sunday_

Peter took a deep breath, trying to calm himself even if he didn’t know why he was so nervous, because May already knew about him. When he was twelve he had started to become interested in boys as well as girls, he’d asked May if he was bad. There were a lot of people that said that being attracted to the same sex was a sin, and it meant you were evil and would go to hell.

May had sat him down and calmly explained that he was not bad, that he was the kindest and smartest person she’d ever met. She’d told him that it didn’t matter what gender he liked, as long as he was happy. That she wouldn’t love him any less if he brought a boy home instead of a girl; she’d accept him no matter what.

So, she knew about him being Bisexual, and that’s why he didn’t know why he was nervous about asking her if they could go to the Pride Parade on the 25th. It was entitled ‘Fight For Love’, which was a very fitting name in his opinion. Those of the LGBT+ community had had to fight on whom they could love for a long time, and even these days, they were still fighting.

This was the second June that he would be out to May, since he had come out to her two years ago, just before Ben had been killed (it was still painful for him to think of that) in October. They’d been mourning him during Pride month last year. He wasn’t over it, since he didn’t think it was possible to be over the death of the man that had raised Peter from when he’d been four years old.

However, he felt like he could be more _him_ , and thought that going to his first Pride parade was the first step. He wouldn’t go to extremes or anything like that, but he did want to be able to go and see what it was like. Also, maybe starting small like wearing a Bi pin starting tomorrow would be nice. He’d already researched his colors and he found that he liked the combination of magenta, lavender and royal blue that made up his Pride flag.

Now, he just had to tell May, who would need to go with him since he was underage and the prospect of going to a Parade that usually had thousands attend was frightening. So, he needed her to come with him, but just them, since Christopher didn’t know about his sexuality. He wasn’t sure he wanted him to know anyways, since they weren’t friends and Peter certainly didn’t consider him family.

“Um, May,” he started hesitantly.

The woman lifted her head from where she was currently reading a book. It was one of her rare days off on a Sunday and they’d spent a lazy day at the apartment, only leaving when they went to buy Thai food. Peter had gone to finish the last of his homework and she’d cracked open a much loved novel. He’d taken a quick shower afterwards and slipped on some pajama pants and one of Ben’s old shirts, getting ready for their movie night as the sky started to darken.

“Yes, honey?” she said, a slightly nostalgic smile lifting her lips when she noticed the too large shirt he was wearing. When they’d moved there, most of Ben’s stuff had been put away in storage, but Peter had kept several of his clothes like shirts, some pajamas, a jacket or two and an old blue hoodie from Ben’s Academy days.

“So, I wanted... to ask you something,” he said, shuffling in place. He hadn’t moved from the mouth of the hallway that led to their rooms and the bathroom. “You know that tomorrow’s Pride Month.”

May paused and her head lifted as a thoughtful expression went over her face. “Oh yeah,” she said, nodding once. “I can’t believe it’s already June. It’s almost the end of the school year.”

“Right,” Peter said, cutting her off before they went off topic. She looked at him again. “So, I was wondering... if it would alright...” He paused and bit his lip, hesitant. What if he was asking too much? May was straight and maybe it wasn’t right to ask her to take him to the parade.

He flinched when he felt a touch on his face, and realized that May had gotten up and walked over when Peter had trailed off. “What is it, sweetie? You know you can tell or ask me anything.”

Peter inhaled and decided to just bite the bullet. “Can you take me to the Pride Parade?”

“Oh,” she said and then, “sure.” Just like that. “Did you want to get a flag for it? Maybe Chris can come...”

“He... he doesn’t know, right?”

May shook her head. “Of course not. It’s up to you if you want to tell him.”

“I don’t want him to know,” he said quickly. “I just... want it to be the two of us, please?”

The woman smiled and nodded, smoothing back his hair. “That’s fine, honey. It can be just me and you then. So, about that flag...?”

Peter merely grinned at her.

\- ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

_June 4, 2015, Thursday_

Peter was super excited for today, since it was an intern day, which had quickly become his favorite time of the week. He still had school the next day, which was a bummer since he always felt like he needed the weekend to recover from that exciting two hours. However, Mr. Stark (“Call me Tony, kid.”) was always busy on Friday, so Thursday were intern days. The only good thing about it was that tomorrow was the last day of classes before summer break started, and then he’d be at the lab during the week (he was given time off between the week if he asked), and have Saturday and Sunday off.

Mr. Stark didn’t work personally with him, but that’s the day he went to inspect the intern labs, so that’s when Peter was there. He couldn’t make much progress in two hours one day out of the week, but he _had_ shown some improvement. Perhaps when school started back up he’d be able to come twice a week instead of the usual one day. Well, after the madness of start of term was over, since the first week was always the hardest, especially since it would be Peter’s Freshman year of High School.

He left the school building ten minutes early, having given permission to do so due to his internship. Peter was glad for it, since that way he didn’t get stuck in the crush of students as everyone left school, trying to get out as quick as possible to catch either the bus, get to the line of cars of their waiting parents, or to catch their train.

When he arrived at the station, he barely made it onto his train before the door closed, breathing heavily. He clutched his backpack and sat down in one of the only seats available. The mother and her little girl next to him edged away from Peter because he was wearing a breathing mask. He was wearing it since the air in the subway was pretty bad that he knew without it, he’d have an asthma attack.

“I have asthma,” he said in a muffled voice to her, motioning to the mask. “It’s hard to breathe down here without it.”

She still hadn’t scooted back as she turned away from him, looking like Peter had told her he had an infectious disease instead of asthma. Well, he guessed he couldn’t blame her, since it was still spring and the probability of getting the flu was still possible. It’d be worse for him if he got it, so _he_ was the one that should be scooting away. Luckily his other side had the door, and that way he could get out quickly and not get stuck in the crowd. It’d be a relief that others would avoid getting too close to him due to mask, thinking he was sick.

He arrived at the tower without any more problems, glad that there was a side entrance that was used for employees. Peter didn’t want to go through the front since he would likely be forced to take his mask off. His asthma was getting worse, and his constantly inflamed airways making it very difficult to breathe. He’d been thinking that constantly wearing a mask would help, but that would mean adding disposable masks to their shopping list and he refused to be more of a burden to his aunt. It was bad enough that he had to always be hospitalized, making May miss work (since Medicaid paid for most of his hospital bills), and he didn’t want to add to her worries.

He swiped his card and set his hand on the panel next to the elevator, the doors opening up after the panel lit up as it scanned his hand print. Peter stepped inside and sighed when it was empty, although he was under no illusion that it would stay like that by the time he reached the intern’s lab, which was on the 17th floor. The floors 17 through 36, and the higher one got, the higher their level was. That’s why Peter was on the 17th floor, since he’d just started and in this particular building, he was the only high school intern.

He stepped off the elevator and breathed a bit easier, even pulling down his mask so it only rested over his mouth. The air in the building was purified, which is why the windows didn’t open. They had emergency exits in place, of course, and emergency power. A city wide power outage wouldn’t affect them though, since Stark Tower was connected to its own personal power grid.

“Hey, Pete!” Jacob called out. He was a dark skinned, black haired 21 year old college intern that was in his third year at ESU. He was in charge of the low level teams of interns on the 17th floor, their supervisor, if you will. Jacob was a really nice guy and didn’t put him down for being the only high school intern (still middle school, but would be in his Freshman year of high school next year) among the rest of the other interns.

Peter sat at his desk, the surface covered in pieces of electronics from the things he was working on. He’d already finished the smaller version of the web-shooter and the patent had finally come through last week. It’d already started to sell, exclusively to hospitals at the moment, but he was hoping that they’d soon be put in standard first aid kits sold over the counter.

It was a half an hour after he’d gotten there that Tony Stark appeared, and it was always the case. Peter didn’t want to think that _he_ was the reason for this, but he almost always came to his desk last and thus spent the most time with him. The other interns had started to get jealous of the attention, but at the first sign of them bullying him, Jacob had shut it down hard. He’d even reported one that tried to change his chemicals out and she’d lost her internship.

The others hadn’t gone that far, so when they finally warmed up to him, Peter had given them all. He generally liked the others, who tended to treat him like their kid brother. It was more true for Jacob, who actually had little siblings, one of which was Peter’s age.

“Heya, Pete,” Mr. Stark said as he wandered over to his desk after he’d looked over Andrea’s project, praising her as she preened with a grin. Andrea was the youngest after Peter and was smart as a whip. “Did you make any progress on your robot?”

“Yeah,” he exclaimed, clearing his throat as he felt a tickle. “So, I’ve finally managed to stop it from glitching...”

Tony nodded as he finished explaining his advancements, and Peter gave credit to Jacob that had helped him with the programming. He was the best when it came to software, while Peter was more inclined toward hardware, and chemistry and biology. The teenager was very proud of his project, and he wondered if Mr. Stark would allow his friend Ned to come help him with the rest. While he appreciated Jacob’s help, he had to look out for the rest of the interns and couldn’t just concentrate on Peter. He’d ask him before he left, since it was almost summer and didn’t think it’d be a problem for him to come with him maybe once a week.

“That’s some good work, kid,” Tony said, hand ruffling his hair. Just before he walked off he pulled out something from his pocket and tossed it to him, Peter fumbling with it for a moment before he was finally able to catch it between his arm and his chest. The adolescent held it up and was surprised when he saw it was a Stark Industries portable nebulizer, which had come out last week. It was super affordable compared to others on the market, but even then it was out of their price range.

Peter had the machine at the house, which Christopher had gotten them at a really affordable price. So, there was no need for a portable one, even if he felt like he might soon need one as his health worsened.

“What is this?” Peter asked, even if he knew what it was. He just didn’t understand why he was giving this to him.

“I hear a rattling when you breathe,” he said, motioning to the nebulizer. “Your aunt signed the medical release for us to treat you in case you get sick while doing your internship duties. Just let Jacob know if you need more medicine and he’ll let me or Pepper know you need a refill.”

Peter looked at the nebulizer, which was something he was sure wouldn’t have been available to him if it wasn’t due to his internship; because of Mr. Stark. It was different to when Chris had helped them get the nebulizer machine. They had been grateful for the discounted price, but the man had seemed to made it seem like he’d done them a huge favor. Maybe Peter was being biased because he didn’t like this man that was dating his aunt, but he didn’t have to make it seem like he was rubbing it in, that only he could possibly have gotten them the machine at such a good price, and they should be grateful. A kind act wasn’t meant to be thrown in someone’s face.

As for Mr. Stark, he made it seem like it wasn’t a big deal, likely knowing Peter would get embarrassed due to his family’s financial situation. Besides, he wasn’t the only one he helped, since he’d seen the man help out the other interns in that offhand way so as not to put anyone on the spot that might be struggling. The man might not seem like it, but he cared a lot about his interns and their general well-being.

He knew he was just one of his interns, but he couldn’t help but think that the man did it for him more than the others. Mr. Stark always ruffled his hair, brought him healthy snacks (the others got chips and sodas, junk food), and before he left he asked if he needed a ride home. He’d never accepted cause he was embarrassed, but appreciated the offer.

Maybe he just looked out for him cause he was the youngest intern there. That had to be it.

\- ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

_June 07, 2015, Sunday_

“Remember to put on your breathing treatment before you go to bed,” his aunt said as she rushed to the door, wearing her scrubs as she grabbed her purse and a light jacket since it got a bit chilly during the nights in the hospital.

Peter nodded with a grimace. He’d really grown to hate using the nebulizer machine during the night. Usually it was only three or four hours, but lately his breathing had gotten so bad that he had to wear it all night. That usually resulted in severe dry mouth, a friction burn from the straps of the mask, and he’d started to get headaches that were probably caused by sinus pressure. It kept getting worse everyday, especially his breathing. There was no logical reason as to why it had gotten so bad, and Christopher had even checked the nebulizer and said that neither the machine nor the mask were faulty.

The man ran a startup medical supply company, so he knew all about the machine Peter used, and he said it was fine. So, for now they and their doctor were stumped as to why his asthma was getting so bad. Maybe it was just his shitty body and health, or perhaps it was something else.

“Yeah, alright. Have a good night,” he told his aunt, walking with her to the door. She kissed his forehead goodnight and he closed the door, but left the chain off for when she came home in the morning in case he was still asleep. It was six now, so she should be back by 6:30AM, 7AM at the latest.

Peter groaned as he stretched and plopped down on the couch, pulling out his phone and texted Ned. After a while, they started playing a game together and Peter groaned when he lost. Ned was always the one that was better at gaming than he was. He was yawning a moment later, hand lifted to his mouth as his eyes watered from the force of his yawn.

Well, Peter guessed it was time for bed.

He’d showered earlier that day, and read ahead for the upcoming school year since he’d already finished his summer homework. So, all that was left was to brush his teeth and get in bed. All the lights in the apartment had been turned off except for the light over the stove. His door was usually closed, since he was a hormonal teenager after all, and he needed his privacy. Now that his aunt wasn’t there, he decided to leave it open so there was no need to turn on his fan as the AC in the living room would blow cool air into his room during the night.

Usually, it wasn’t a good idea for the room to be too cold, since he had allergies on top of asthma, which made for a bad combination if he got a sinus cold. So, he usually had to keep his room at about 75 degrees Fahrenheit (24 Celsius), which was still too warm for him. By leaving his door open there would be enough cool air coming in to cool him off, but not cause him any problems.

He looked at the nebulizer machine and frowned, wondering if he could get away with not using it for a single night. He’d had to use it almost every night this week, and frankly, he was sick of it, quite literally some nights. The medicine coated his entire mouth, nose and throat, and no amount of mouthwash could get rid of the taste.

It was gone by the end of the day, but hated not being able to taste his breakfast and dinner. Sometimes it was so bad he even lost his appetite, and he was already too skinny as it was to be missing meals. So, his mind made up, he decided to forgo the treatment just for tonight. He would hate lying to his aunt, but he was just tired of treatments and medicines with no improvement to his health.

He was alone tonight, May having decided he was old enough to not need a babysitter (Finally!). Besides, it wasn’t too warm for being June, and the AC in the living room wasn’t up too high. Peter was sure he’d be alright with not doing his treatment, that woke him up most nights to be violently sick. He wanted to get just one night of uninterrupted sleep.

Peter sighed in content as he snuggled under his blanket, closing his eyes. As he drifted off, he hoped he had a nice dream. He’d been having some bizarre ones lately.

Peter groaned when he opened his eyes and found himself standing next to his bed, looking at himself sleeping peacefully. He wasn’t sure why he kept having these dreams, but as he moved out of the room through the wall by choice this time, he guessed he could understand. As he was now, he felt no pain or shortness of breath, like he was untethered from his sickly body. Peter felt strong as he longed to be in real life, with no asthma to hold him back.

Besides, he could go anywhere, but made sure not to accidentally see someone getting dressed or showering again. It might be a dream, but even then, he didn’t want to be a pervert. Mostly, he stuck with going in people’s living rooms to see how they lived (or how his mind assumed they lived in his dream). Peter was just glad he had gotten the hang of actual walking instead of floating around out of control all the time, passing through the walls and people.

He paused in the hallway when he thought he heard something, but as always, everything not in his immediate area was super fuzzy and dark. As for people, they were almost colorless in skin tone as well as their clothes, but around them would be a faint colorful glow. His knowledge of fantasy and supernatural movies gave him the knowledge to know that these were auras. Although, since this was a dream, he wasn’t sure if it applied here.

Peter heard something again down the hallway, like something jiggling and that was followed by the sound of wood splintering. He walked closer with more bravado than Peter would have felt in real life. The area got brighter as he approached the window at the end of the hallway, which led onto the fire escape on that side.

A man seemed to morph from the shadows, but it was just the room getting brighter now that he was in this area. Peter didn’t recognize this man, who was pushing open the window and climbing inside, not even bothering to close it again. His aura was ugly to look at, a mix of red and purple with streaks of black in it, and he had an air of danger to him. Peter might have been afraid of the man, but he wasn’t even looking at him, looked right through him when he lifted his gaze. That’s right, no one could see him in his dreams. He was always only an observer.

When he started walking toward him, Peter scrambled out of his way, since the teenager didn’t want to go through him. Whenever a person walked through Peter, or _he_ went through another person, he was bombarded with mental images (he assumed they were fragments of memories), thoughts, and feelings all jumbled up. It was like someone shoved them violently into his head between his eyes.

It was not a pleasant experience (and the headache he woke up with was always explained away as an affect of the medicine that manifested in the dream), and he definitely wanted to avoid what that kind of aura would do to him. Peter knew it was a dream, but the idea of touching that ugly aura was frightening to him, that it might even hurt for real.

For lack of a better thing to do, since there didn’t seem to be anyone else around, he followed the menacing man. _‘So, I haven’t seen you around here before, Mister Stranger. I’d know, since I’ve visited almost everyone on this floor at least twice. I’m not a creep though, just curious, and I always stay in the living room. Well, unless there’s no one at home, which isn’t common because I always seem to come around after everyone is asleep.’_

He stopped his babbling when the man stopped at the Jones’s apartment door. _‘Oh, do you know the twins? Hailey and Riley are like, super pretty. They’re a year older than me. I think they go to the public high... hey, what are you doing?’_ The man had tried the door and when he found it locked, he took out a small tool kit which he was now using on the lock. _‘Are... you picking the lock like those spy movies?! Are you a spy, Mister Stranger?’_

His smile and excitement vanished when he pushed it open, and when the chain on the inside stopped it, the man gave an animalistic snarl and kicked the door open. It slammed into the wall violently as the chain was ripped off the wooden door frame. The man stepped into the apartment, and Peter panicked and flung himself at the man. He screamed as he went through him and got a bombardment of hate, anger, and _**murder!**_ from the man. The fragments of memories were of a woman cowering away from him, protecting two small children. He recognized them all; Hailey, Riley and Miss Jones.

Peter was flung away, falling so fast that he was sure he was going to die.

The fourteen year old gasped as he shot up in bed, one hand clutching his head that was splitting open with a headache, and the other flung off the blanket. Peter scrambled out of bed, his chest tight and he was unable to breathe. Even then, he staggered out of his room and to the front door, his heart a frantic tattoo inside his rib cage as he threw open the door of his apartment.

Peter knew it was a dream, was sure of it, but he had to make sure. He had to know they were safe, or he wouldn’t be able to sleep.

He stumbled down the hallway as the door of his apartment closed behind him, knees buckling beneath him and his lungs burning as the room spun. Peter lifted his head when he was almost there and was horrified to see the Jones’s apartment door wide open. He gasped in air that could barely pass through his swollen airway, his eyesight darkening around the edges. Peter heard a muffled scream, a call for help as he stood there, struggling to breathe.

_‘No, this can’t be real!’_

They’re in danger!

_’They were all dreams! It can’t be real!’_

They’re in danger!

_‘It was... real. All of it had been real.’_

**THEY’RE IN DANGER!**

Peter forced himself to take three more steps, reaching for the fire alarm and pulling it down. As the shrill sound of the alarm started up, Peter collapsed face down on the floor. Just before unconsciousness took him, the man with the ugly aura from his dream ran out of the broken-in apartment.

Then everything else around Peter went dark just like in his dream that wasn’t really a dream, ceasing to exist.-


	4. Further And Further

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter wakes up in the hospital, outside of his body...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to post this a day early since I posted it a day late the other week. This story, unintentionally, started me on weekly posting. Although, I doubt it’ll last, since my muses are unpredictable and do what they want.
> 
> Enjoy the chapter and leave me a comment to let me know what you think. I usually write for myself, but it’s nice to hear from people that read it. It makes me happy to know that someone likes it as much as I like it.

**Till I Touch The Sky  
Chapter Four:** _Further And Further_

\- ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

_”The day is incomplete  
The thoughts of total defeat  
I don't know what is happening to me  
Or if I'll die, 'cause I just never sleep_

_You awoke into my night  
You could see the madness in my eyes_

_I've lost control, please save me from myself...”_

~Insomnia (Acoustic) - IAMX

\- ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

_June 08, 2015, Monday, 12:05AM_

Peter blinked open his eyes and sighed when he was next to his hospital bed. His body was in the bed, and it was attached to the usual things; heart monitor and an IV drip on the back of his hand. Also, he was connected to a respirator.

Oh no, that wasn’t good.

It was possibly pneumonia, which meant the rattling in his chest Mr. Stark had heard was the start of it. That meant that the medicines weren’t helping him at all, and his lungs were getting weaker and more damaged from the dirty city air. He didn’t even want to think of being forced to be on oxygen for the rest of his life, constantly, every second of his life. Also, not to mention the cost of having to be on oxygen 24/7.

Peter knew though, that this was likely what awaited him, and at times...

Peter decided to concentrate on the here and now, looking around at the hospital room he was in. He would have believed that he was dreaming, if it wasn’t for what had happened. Riley and Hailey and their mother had been in trouble in his ‘dream’, and he’d woken up and they had in fact been in danger from the same man. Either he’d dreamed it was happening, or he really had been outside of his body.

The teenager wasn’t sure which one it was, but he knew that he had to be careful, and not be so reckless anymore. Especially now, since this was the first time this had happened while he was away from home. Then again, he’d never slept anywhere else besides at home, and his previous hospital stay and this time couldn’t be considered sleeping. If he had to guess, he was likely in a coma or was being kept medically asleep.

Both of them were equally as scary, especially the latter.

Peter was reluctant to leave his body while not at home, but he found his curiosity getting the better of him. He walked out of the room as the rest of the area lit up, and he wondered if it was his aura that was lighting it up. It was soon clear that he was in the ICU, which wasn’t good. Being in the ICU was an expensive stay, no matter how small.

At times he wondered if it had been better not to have ever come to live with Ben and May. Then they wouldn’t have been burdened with so many bills due to his shitty health. Maybe Ben would still be alive. It would have been better not to be born at all.

Peter gasped as the room started to get darker, even in his immediate area and he had to stop since he couldn’t see anything. Did he die? Or maybe the rest of the world had ceased to exist?

He cried out as he was bombarded with thoughts, feelings and fragments of memories as someone passed through him. Peter staggered to the side where the wall was as the rest of the world came back into focus (albeit still with that fuzzy quality to it). He somehow managed not to fall through the wall, and even as he panted with exertion, he remembered that he didn’t need to breathe while he was like this.

Although, now that he paused to catch his breath, so to speak, he started to think that maybe his sad, depressing thoughts from a few minutes had caused the darkening of the world around him. Perhaps being in this state amplified any emotion he felt, which is why he was fearless while he was out of his body. That meant, that he was able to see due to his own aura and anything negative or sad made it dim, and thus he was not able to see. It wasn’t that the world disappeared, but that he wasn’t able to see it; was blinded to the world around him.

If that was the case, he wondered why the plane of existence he walked in when he left his body was so dark, as if it lacked all light and life. It couldn’t be that it ceased to exist as he had thought, after all, that person (a woman judging by the pieces of memories he’d gotten) proved that the world still existed.

When he walked back to his hospital room, he confirmed that he was very much alive, or at least, his body was. Whether that applied to his current form was debatable, and best saved for another time when he wasn’t in the hospital. After all, his depressing thoughts might affect his physical body.

He straightened in confusion as an alarm started to blare from one of the rooms near by. Peter moves over to the door, watching from the doorway as unobtrusively as he could, seeing as one of the nurses that had rushed in to check on the patient. He couldn’t tell who it was with the three nurses hovering over the bed, but when the heart monitor gave a shrill whine, he felt the urge to get closer.

“She’s coding! Get the doctor in here, stat!”

Peter moved around the room without getting closer, not wanting the nurses to pass through him accidentally. His head tilted to the side in bafflement when he saw a thread-like line at the center of the woman’s chest, whose face was obscured by the bandages wrapped around her head as well as the mask they were using to administer CPR.

The other end of the thread was hovering close to the ceiling, and as Peter watched, a body started to appear. She was transparent and appeared to be naked, if he had to guess, since at about her waist the rest of her body disappeared. As her face formed all the way, Peter realized that it was Miss Jones, Riley and Hailey’s mother.

Her eyes snapped open before his shock could register, mouth falling open before she screamed. **‘NO! HAILEY! RILEY! DON’T TOUCH THEM!’** Her eyes flickered back and forth, seeing something that Peter couldn’t. Then her face tightened into determination. **‘DON’T TOUCH THEM! YOU’LL HAVE TO KILL ME FIRST!’**

Peter had a pretty good idea of what she was seeing, likely reliving the attack from that man. He covered his ears when she started to grunt and cry out as if receiving hits and blows, but this wasn’t his physical body so he could hear every sound. As each remembered blow came, the thread started to fade away as the heart monitor flat-lined. The nurses (and the doctor that had arrived at one point) started to shock her, and when they did the thread reformed, but immediately started to fade again.

He couldn’t stand to keep watching and was about to leave, but something made him turn back. It was a whispered voice, the same one that had been screaming moments before. _’Keep his attention on me. Don’t let him harm my kids. Dear God, save my babies from this monster. I don’t care if I die... Hailey.... Riley.’_

In the background, Peter distantly heard the medical team stop trying to revive her. “Alright, I’m calling it,” the doctor sighed sadly. The thread flickered like a candle about to be extinguished.

 **‘HEY!’** Peter rushed forward as he propelled himself up toward the woman, reaching out and was only mildly surprised when he was able to grab onto her. Her face changed and she turned to look at Peter, confusion on her ghost-like features.

 **‘FIGHT!’** he yelled. **‘THEY NEED YOU! THE TWINS NEED YOU!’**

She flickered like a dying ember, and was almost gone, more transparent then even Peter. His eyes filled with tears but they couldn’t fall, not while he was like this but his own aura dimmed in sorrow.

 _‘Hailey.... Riley,’_ she whispered, her voice sounding loving and _desperate_.

Then she ignited like an inferno as the thread thickened from the woman’s sheer force of will; a mother wanting to protect her children, defying even death. Peter was flung back, and he managed to stop himself before he flew through the wall.

As he lifted his gaze toward her, she smiled at Peter once before she was yanked back into her body. Her physical body breathed in as the monitor register her heartbeat once more, steady and strong. The medical team paused, the doctor already out the door before he ran back in when a nurse called him back. He’d already pronounced her dead, the nurse had even written it on her file and had been in the process of going to alert her teenage children in the waiting room.

The doctor checked her pulse even if the monitor was showing that her heart was beating. “It’s... impossible,” he whispered in disbelief. He cleared his throat a moment later with a sharp nod. “Let’s check her brain activity. She was gone for a few minutes. Let’s make sure there’s no brain damage.”

Peter was horrified to hear that, not having thought of it in the heat of the moment. He’d just reacted on his desire to save her, thinking of the twins devastation if their mother had died. Peter had thought of how he had felt when Ben die.

However, he’d been selfish, since he hadn’t even thought about how this might physically affect her. She could very well be a vegetable for the rest of her life, and he would be responsible. Peter had done this.

He staggered away, wanting to be away from there. The world dimmed around him as his grief and guilt filled him like a cup overflowing with too much water.

“My oh my, you’re projecting pretty loudly there,” an amused voice said.

Peter flinched and turned, the voice coming loud and clear, almost jarring. He couldn’t help but think this person was talking to him, even if no one had ever been able to see him before.

When he turned though, there was a heavily bandaged man staring right at him. His entire face and head was covered in gauze, so only a pair of warm brown eyes were visible. They were sharp and clear, and the skin around them was horribly disfigured. The nurse that had pushed him inside in the wheelchair he was sitting in wasn’t paying him nor Peter any attention.

She set the brakes and then started to push back the sheets and blanket from the bed, and Peter realized that he wasn’t in the same room where Miss Jones had been in. He must have passed through the wall without realizing, and was likely in one of the adjacent rooms.

However, the man didn’t appeared to be critical. He heavily injured if the gauze covering the entirety of his face and head was any indication, possibly a burn victim, but this wasn’t the burn unit.

“Oh yeah, I can see you, baby boy,” the man said, voice a sort of amused smugness that Peter didn’t know how to take. The nurse ignored him as if use to his antics, and started to helped him into the bed. He groaned as he climbed up with difficulty, and Peter could tell he was in a lot of pain.

“The doctor will be in shortly, Mr. Wilson,” she told the bandaged man. Then she quickly and quietly left, closing the door behind her.

Peter returned his attention to the man, who was looking at him as he pressed the button on the control that lifted the bed. Even that seemed to pain him as his body was lifted up until he was in a sitting position. The action of sitting up, shifting his body, seemed to cause him such discomfort that his other hand gripped the sheet in a white-knuckled grip.

 _’Are you okay?’_ Peter asked, his voice sounding wobbly even to his own ears (although technically did he even have ears at the moment?).

The bandages over the man’s mouth shifted and Peter wondered if he was smiling or frowning. “How charming, the dead boy worried about me,” he drawled in mock amusement. So it was neither; probably a smirk, or a sneer. “How adorable.” The gauze over his mouth moved to indicate he had spoken, otherwise he could almost convince himself that he wasn’t even talking.

Peter avoided the bed and the man’s reach, afraid that because he could see him, meant he could also touch him. He wasn’t sure and besides, Peter didn’t want to know what he was feeling, have his thoughts in his head and especially not any memories.

 _’I’m not dead,’_ Peter mumbled. His attention was taken by the sight of a dead potted plant by the curtained window, mostly dead. _’But your plant is definitely dead. You should get the nurse to water it or throw it out.’_

“Hold on, shut up for a sec. You never stop when you get started, do you?” He turned off the television, which had been nothing more than background noise at that point even if he hadn’t even been watching it. “What do’ya mean you’re not dead?”

Peter shrugged. He crouched down when he noticed something crawling along one of the plant’s dying leaves, which turned out to be a beetle. _’My body is down in ICU. I think I’m in a coma. I must have dream-walked here.’_ He reached out to try and touch the beetle, but it flew off almost like it sensed him and landed on another part of the plant. ’I think some beetles are killing your plant.’

The man laughed. “Jesus Christ, kid. You tell me you’re in a coma in the next building and you want to talk about beetles eating my plant?”

Peter’s head lifted so sharply that if he’d still been in his body, he’d have likely hurt his neck from the sudden movement. _’W-what? The next building? But... I w-was just in ICU watching Miss Jones...’_ Peter cut himself off as he remembered that he’d been feeling terribly guilty due to the woman perhaps being brain damaged after coming back after being dead for so long. That he had been wishing to have never hurt her in such a way, and wanted to be away from there...

The teenager quickly went to the door, sticking his head through it to see the hallway and nearby was the nurse’s station and the sign read Oncology. That meant he was indeed in the next building in the Cancer Center. He’d never been to this part of the hospital before, since he’d only come whenever he’d be hospitalized due to his asthma or to see a specialist to see about his worsening health problems. Peter didn’t want to be in the hospital any more than he needed to, and there had thankfully never been a reason to visit the Oncology Ward.

Ever since he’d started ‘dream-walking’, he had learned new things he could do while in this state. He was always wearing the clothes he slept in, so he was usually in his pajamas (and his hospital gown at the moment), but he found that he could change his appearance if he concentrated hard enough. Peter was only able to do this for a short amount of time and it always left him feeling really tired, and he had even known he _could_ get tired while dreaming.

Now, he knew better and that this was no dream. He was just walking out his body somehow, and now it appeared he had done something new. The boy wasn’t really liking it though, since this was the farthest he’d ever been from his body. It scared him more now that he knew this was no dream; scared him to think he could get hurt going through walls and people and his physical body would be affected.

“That looks creepy, just so you know,” the man said as he stuck his head back inside the room. “Seeing your head disappearing through the door like that. Thanks for that trauma, since I wasn’t nearly fucked up enough already.” Peter wasn’t sure if he was joking or not since he said it in such a flippant way. “And it’s called astral projecting, brat, not dream-walking. It’s your spirit or soul, whatever you want to call it, being able to leave your body for a while without actually dying.”

Peter frowned. _’Astral... projecting?’_ He looked down at himself, how see-through he was. _’Is that why I look like a ghost? I thought I was dead the first time it happened, since I fell and hit my head. Then I thought they were just dreams, but this is really happening, isn’t it?’_ Peter asked the man as he lifted his gaze to look at him.

The man sighed and flung back the covers. “Here I was hoping for a nap, but now I gotta help not-dead boys figure out astral-projecting cause they’re amateurs that don’t know shit.” He grunted in pain as he sat up, and Peter’s eyes were once more drawn to his arms and legs. Almost every bit of flesh visible was covered in bandages, even each individual finger. He wondered what had happened to cause so much gauze covering his body. “I’m going to blush if you keep staring so hard, twerp.”

The teenager realized how rude he was being and hastily turned away. Actually, he realized he had been a voyeur by accident, thinking the times he’d astral-projected had been dreams. That meant, he had seen Hailey briefly nude that one time, Riley in the shower, and those times he’d sat in the other’s room listening as he had strummed on his guitar and sang.

He’d been such a creep.

After a few grunts and groans of pain, the man had finally managed to plop himself in the wheelchair the nurse had left in the room. Peter turned back, glad he wasn’t in his body or he’d likely have been red as a tomato at this moment. “Alright, shortstop, lead the way, and stop all those angsty teenager feelings. You have no mental shields and its giving me a headache.”

Peter stepped away quickly as he rolled himself forward, not wanting the man to go through him. “You’re smart,” he laughed. “Good, don’t touch me. You definitely don’t want all my thoughts and memories in you. How much do you see when you pass through someone?”

The teenager followed after him quickly as Mr. Wilson pulled open the door with some difficulty, Peter starting to walk at his side but avoiding anyone that was walking by. _’Their feelings and thoughts at the time... well, more like their intentions than actual thoughts. There are... some fragments of memories.’_

“Seems about right,” he said as he continued to wheel himself down the hallway. “How long have you been projecting? Can you move things yet?”

The nurses and medical professionals they passed mostly ignored them, or rather, they ignored Mr. Wilson. _‘Um... about two months, more or less. No, I can’t move anything. Will I be able to?’_ The thought was an exciting one and was something he definitely wanted to explore more. _’Can you astral-project, Mr. Wilson? Is that why you know so much?’_

Mr. Wilson snorted. “Hell no. I just have the sight, but I can’t astral-project. A damn shame, since I wish I could leave this fucking body behind.” It pained him whenever he moved his arms to propelled him along on the wheelchair, if his flickering aura was any indication and he wondered not for the first time what had happened to him. Peter had a feeling that he shouldn’t ask him though, since he was likely to not answer, or _would_ answer. He wasn’t sure which one would be worse.

“How do you know so much if you can’t astral-project?”

“Because you’re not the first astral-projector I’ve met. It’s dangerous when you don’t know what you’re doing. That’s why you have to get back to your body. Being too far away from your body for a long time is dangerous,” he warned. “You’ll lose sense of yourself, and even start to forget who you are because you don’t have a body to anchor your mind and spirit.”

The man seemed to know where he was going and Peter had to wonder how long he had been at the hospital, but once more, he didn’t ask. As they passed the various rooms and people in this particular ward, Peter saw some people that looked more dead than alive. They were likely close to death judging by their flickering auras, which were threatening to flicker out of existence. It was like the line that had attached her ghost (soul?) to Miss Jones’s body as she had been dying.

In one room they passed, there was a little boy that looked no older than nine. He stood in the doorway and watched them pass with sorrowful eyes, and Peter opened his mouth to say something. “Don’t,” Mr. Wilson snapped, his playful tone having hardened into something dangerous. “Keep moving.” He hurried his hands on the wheels to make himself go faster, and once they turned the corner, he stopped and looked up at Peter, since he was shorter than him while in the chair.

“Never speak to those with no auras. The recently dead still have some kind of aura, a bit of life left. But those that have no aura have been dead a long time. If you let them in, they’ll attach themselves to you like leeches, sucking away at your aura, your life.” He started to move forward again. “Don’t touch them, don’t talk to them. Don’t even look at them.”

Peter could only nod, feeling shaken by his words. _’Can... can they get inside my body?’_ The thought hadn’t even occurred to him. This was a hospital and people died here... and he’d left his body so far away. How many of these ghosts were between him and his body? Maybe someone ( _ ~~something~~_ ) had already gotten inside of his body!

His terror manifested like a dark cloud so suddenly that he had no time to stop it, covering everything around him as he lost sight of the floor under his feet, the hallway around him, and even Mr. Wilson. The only thing he could think of was that something was inside his body! He was stuck like this, and he’d never be able to get back to his aunt, back home.

**He was stuck like this!**

“...id! Kid! Jesus Christ, you’re strong! **Kid!** ” Mr. Wilson cursed. “No, I’m fine! Leave me alone!” the man snapped at someone else. “Kid! Get ahold of yourself!”

Peter found himself suddenly on the floor on his hands and knees as he breathed heavily like he’d run a mile, the man’s voice having snapped him back to himself. The floor felt so real and solid underneath him and he felt someone or something brush against him as he jerked away, arm flailing with the intention to push whoever it was away from him. The nurse that had been rushing past with a tray with a syringe on it shrieked in fright as the tray was knocked out of her hand seeming on its own.

 _’W-what?’_ Peter gasped, looking at his hand in shock before turning wide eyes toward Mr. Wilson.

The injured man was being restrained by a male nurse in scrubs, and he and the others had turned to look at the tray incredulously. His bandages had shifted enough for him to see his mouth, which was spilt wide with a grin. “Holy shit, kid! Did you just manifest enough to physically knock that tray over? In two months?!” He sounded gleeful even if Peter was sure he was in a lot of pain from being manhandled by the nurse.

One of the other nurses had recovered enough to recover the capped needle, using some hand sanitizer port on the wall to sanitize the dropped needle. “Aww, crap,” he chuckled ruefully. “I guess this is as far as I can accompany you, kid. These morons think I’ve gone crazy... which they might not be wrong, if I’m being completely honest!” The nurse uncapped the needle and another swabbed his arm with an alcohol wipe. “Ooh, they’re gonna give me the good stuff too!”

Peter watched helplessly as they stuck the needle in his arm and then pushed the stopper all the way down. “Time for nighty night.” The teenager rushed forward, maybe to help him or stop them. “NO!” Peter stopped. “Don’t touch me... I don’t want you to see... I won’t do that to a kid.”

 _’Peter,’_ he blurted out. _’My name is Peter Parker, Mr. Wilson.’_ He may not see the man again, and the thought was a lonely one. There hadn’t been anyone that could see him as he was now, and what if he never woke up? What if he ended up bodyless wandering the halls of this hospital with people unable to see him, and with ghosts as his only company?

“Peter, huh?” the man slurred, the drug already having zapped the strength in his limbs as he slumped in the nurse’s hold. “Just call me Wade, for fuck’s sake, kid.” He glanced to the side with a frown. “Shut up, yellow, m’not talking to you, fuuuuck...” Wade’s head fell back as he passed out with one last disturbing giggle.

As they wheeled the man away, the adolescent felt alone again. He had felt relieved to have Wade with him, and hadn’t realized how terrible it was to astral-project (hadn’t even know that’s what it was until the man had cleared things up for him). Now, it was just Peter and the ghosts that felt so cold. He passed one as he left the building and he shivered despite currently not having a body.

The light dimmed as he saw another one and started to panic, and he had to stop and take a deep breath he didn’t need to calm himself. He did this until he could see again, his aura brightening up again as well as the area around him. Then he gathered all his courage and continued his trek back to his hospital room and his body. After what felt like hours upon hours (passing several more ghosts that he’d pointedly ignored), he finally found the right room.

Peter wasn’t really sure what time it was, but when he passed through the door, he saw that he was still alone in the room. The heart monitor was still beeping strongly and the hiss of the breathing machine keeping him alive was the only sound heard. Perhaps they hadn’t been able to get ahold of his aunt yet, but he was sure Mrs, Harold, the widow that lived next door, had his aunt’s emergency contact information.

Then he remembered that the woman had left two days ago to visit her family during the summer. This wasn’t the hospital that his aunt worked at and when he’d been here before, it was usually during the day. That meant that he wasn’t familiar with the night shift nurses, but they should have been able to get his information from his medical bracelet...

Peter groaned as he smacked his forehead when he saw his bare wrist. He didn’t have it on, and remembered that he’d taken it off when he’d had his shower earlier in the day and he must have forgotten to put it back on. His aunt was always chastising him about taking it off, but it bothered him while he was bathing or showering. If he could, he’d always have it off but knew he couldn’t. It listed his asthma and food allergies, as well as the medicine he was allergic to; Penicillin V.

He decided to get inside his body and that way he could wake up and have one of the nurses call his aunt and also give them his information. Peter walked over, floating over toward his body that was attached to all those machines, making him look even tinier. He hated it, how sick he looked and the fear that this would always be his life.

  
“Back into my sickly body, then,” he sighed, closing his eyes. Nothing happened. His eyes blinked open in shock as he stared down at his body.

He couldn’t get back inside his body!-


	5. The Ticking Crocodile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter leaves the hospital...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is super late. I was dealing with insomnia and going to work half asleep, and a bit of depression on top of it all where I just went back and reread an HP fanfics to cheer up. It started with Long Live The Queen by offsides, then To Shape And Change by Blueowl, and from there it was one after another: Inspected By No 13 by Clell65619, Harry Potter and the Board of Governors by Susan M. M, Petrification Proliferation by White Squirrel, Loyalty by Whispering Darkness, and I’ve just started on Digging for the Bones by paganaidd.
> 
> I’m pretty sure these are all on FanFiction.Net, which isn’t as terrible as it sounds lol I use the app, which is so much better than the website. It’s kind of like reading an ebook (or on the kindle).
> 
> Also, this turned from six to seven chapters, again. But the chapters were getting so long! _*grumbles about long winded muses*_
> 
> **Edit:** _[[07/04/20]_ I had to change a date on here, because I got the day of the 2015 Pride Parade wrong. Well, I must have Googled it wrong, cause that’s the date it gave me wasn’t right. Some other sources (mostly weather reports and the like) state that it happened on the 28th and not on the 25th. So, I changed it.

**Till I Touch The Sky  
Chapter Five:** _The Ticking Crocodile_

\- ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

_”And on I read, until the day was gone  
And I sat in regret of all the things I've done  
For all that I've blessed, and all that I've wronged  
In dreams until my death, I will wander on_

_In your house, I long to be  
Room by room, patiently  
I'll wait for you there, like a stone  
I'll wait for you there, alone, alone...”_

~Like A Stone - Audioslave

\- ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

_June 08, 2015, Monday, 03:56AM_

  
Peter huffed in frustration as he folded his arms over his chest and crossed his legs Indian style, floating over his body since his last attempt had been to forcefully push inside. He hadn’t even passed through as he did most people, finding a barrier of some sort. It was one of several tries he had done to get inside his body, but so far he hadn’t made any headway. He was stuck outside.

This could get boring pretty fast, since there was nothing for Peter to do and he didn’t dare leave his body again. He floated over to the remote controller of the television and wondered if he could do as he’d done with the tray, pushing one of the buttons to turn on the TV at least. There was nothing for him to lose, so decided to try it and turned upside down in the air and he concentrated as hard as he could and lowered his finger. He cursed when it passed through, but tried again... and again, and again.

Peter was starting to lose patience when the door open, making him squawk since he probably made a sight. Then he remembered that no one could see him doing something weird. Even so, he squeaked in embarrassment when he saw Hailey peeking into his room. She motioned behind her and then Riley followed after her, and Peter couldn’t stop from hiding behind the partially drawn curtain, even if _they couldn’t see him_.

“Damn, is he okay?” Hailey asked as she kept by the door, likely watching for the nurse. Riley moved further into the room, and Peter felt the phantom feeling of an embarrassed blush at the older boy seeing him in such a state. “Did that asshole hurt him too?”

“I don’t know, Hai,” Reily muttered. “I was more concerned about mom. I didn’t even know something had happened to him until I saw him being loaded into another ambulance. He doesn’t look hurt.” There was no chair in the room, and Peter felt a thrill as Riley sat on the edge of the bed, those green eyes of his looking over him and then the machines. His gaze lingered on the breathing machine, his face tightening into an expression Peter couldn’t quite decipher.

Hailey was suddenly beside her twin brother, making Peter jump since he’d been concentrated on Riley and how close he was to his actual physical body. As for Riley, he scowled at his sister. The girl smirked back at him.

“Well, you were taking too long. Were you working up the nerve to wake him with a kiss or something?” she teased, flipping her long hair behind her back. It was so shiny and soft looking, and Peter wondered why both the twins had to be so pretty.

Peter felt a flip in his chest at the thought of Riley kissing him, and was surprised as the heart monitor registered a stutter in his heart rate. Apparently, not as surprised as the twins, who turned to look at the monitor and then Peter’s body. A shit-eating grin spread over Hailey’s face. “I think our knight in shining armor likes that idea,” she crowed.

The see-through boy cursed the heart monitor as it once more registered his excitement and horror at the thought of Riley Jones kissing him. “Don’t be stupid,” Riley snapped, dashing his hopes away as quickly as they had formed. “He’s asleep. He can’t consent.”

Hailey giggled hysterically. “Then if he was awake, you _would_ kiss him?”

Riley sighed and shook his head in exasperation. Peter, meanwhile, was gripping his shirt as he stared at the older boy in shock. He didn’t know whether he wished he was back in his body so he could wake up, or stay as he was, since he was sure he’d _die_ if Riley actually kissed him.

The teenager girl shoved him aside. “Then step aside, cause I _am_ kissing him.” Peter made an articulate noise of horror ( ~~and excitement?~~ ) as he watched Hailey lean down over his unconscious body. He was relieved and disappointed in equal measures when she only kissed his cheek. “Thank you for pulling the fire alarm. You saved my mom.”

Peter stared at the girl, and then Riley as he reached for his hand, the one that didn’t have the IV attached to it, and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Yeah, no matter what happens now, thank you,” he murmured quietly. He felt his tears fill his eyes but they didn’t fall, not able to cry in this form. Peter was so happy and relieved to hear such words. Ever since he had kept the woman from fading away, he’d felt like a wretch, because she might have been permanently brain damaged.

Yet here were the twins thanking him even if they thought he couldn’t hear them, and it felt like a weight had been lifted from his chest. Then he was suddenly falling, being sucked back inside his body.

Oh, so that was it.

His eyes fluttered as he groaned, feeling groggy and disoriented, and felt a hand gripping his. He squeezed it back, thinking it was his aunt and forced his eyelids felt so heavy. When he tried to speak, he found he couldn’t and he jerked his free hand to his mouth when he tried to breathe and there was something in his throat.

“Shit, don’t do that,” a panicked voice said. Peter felt someone else grab his other hand to pull it away from his face, and his eyes shot open all the way. He saw Riley and Hailey, confused for a moment before the memories of astral-projecting came rushing back to him. There was a breathing tube in his throat, he had to calm down, and forced himself to stop trying to breathe. It was more difficult than one might assume, since a machine breathing for you was not a pleasant experience.

Riley hadn’t let go of his hand this whole time as he tried to calm down, and when he finally was, he tried to pull away in embarrassment, but the older boy held on. His brown eyes met green in confusion, unable to ask him anything. Peter wasn’t sure what he would even ask. His face was filling with color as Riley kept staring down at him.

“Why’d you pull the fire alarm?” Hailey suddenly asked him. “How did you know we were in trouble?”

The male of the twins glanced at his sister. “He obviously can’t speak, so leave him alone, Hailey.” She huffed but crossed her arms over her chest, muttering under her breath that Riley had been wondering the same thing. He ignored her and turned back to Peter. “We’re sorry we barged into your room like this. We just... we wanted to see how you were doing and to thank you. We’ll let you rest now.”

He started to pull his hand away, but this time Peter held on. Riley glanced at him curiously, squeezing his hand back. “What is it?”

“M.... maachm,” he tried speaking, wanting to know how their mother was, but his voice was slurred and muffled by the breathing tube. “M....ahm?” Peter felt heat in his face and tears in his eyes from shame when he felt a bit of drool dribble down his chin, but it couldn’t be helped when he had a tube jammed down his throat.

Riley noticed and grabbed the clean wash cloth in the basin beside his bed, using that to clean his chin for him, since Peter seemed to weak to do it himself. He could feel the tremble in his fingers as he held his hand. “Are you asking about my mom?” Peter nodded. “She... she hasn’t woken up yet. That bastard... hurt her really badly.” His head tilted as Peter made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a sob, and a few tears ran down his face. “Why are you crying?”

“You saved her,” Hailey pipped in, a smile on her face. She reached out and wiped a few tears from his face. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

He felt his eyes starting to get heavy, and wanted to keep awake. Peter wanted to keep listening to them speak to him, like he was real and not just a see-through ghost that had haunted their apartment the last few weeks. The boy just felt so tired and he couldn’t keep his eyes open.

Peter heard the rustle of fabric and then warm breath on his face. “Peter,” Riley whispered, not having realized that Riley even knew his name. Then he felt warm lips press to his cheek at the corner of his mouth.

He was asleep in the next second, not knowing if it had been real, or just wishful thinking.

\- ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

_June 09, 2015, Tuesday, 12:01AM_

Peter wasn’t awake when they moved him out of the ICU, hadn’t even known when his aunt had finally come. He just opened his eyes suddenly to a dark room, the television giving the only light and that’s how he was able to see the outline of someone sleeping in the chair. It was his Aunt May, and she had an extra hospital blanket covering her as she slept in a not so comfortable position.

He didn’t know what time it was but he could see that the Late Show with some host he didn’t know was on. Peter wasn’t familiar with the guy’s name, and only knew that the previous host had been David Letterman cause he’d been around for so long and his aunt May had always had him record it when she worked the night shift. She didn’t see it too much anymore.

There was no more obtrusive feeling of the breathing tube in his mouth and throat, and he felt sore, the kind of soreness one felt after laying in a bed for a long time. So, he must have been here for at least a day, but couldn’t really be too sure. He just knew that the danger to his life must have passed for them to have taken the tube out.

Peter wondered vaguely, aware that he was either disassociating or in shock, if he’d died or been close to death. They didn’t just intubate someone for no reason, and while he was sure this thought would fuck with his head later, for now he just silently watched the late night talk show.

 _8:03AM_  
The adolescent must have dozed off, because next thing he knew there was sunlight coming in through the partially open blinds and the TV was off. The chair beside his bed was empty, so his aunt had either gone home or she’d left for work. Even if he knew she had to go, it didn’t stop him from feeling a bit lonely. He was immediately ashamed of this, since she’d been here last night. She had slept in that uncomfortable chair instead of her comfy bed.

She had likely changed in the cramped bathroom, probably without even being able to shower properly, and then left to do a twelve hour shift. As usual, he was nothing but a burden to the closest thing he had to a mother; did nothing but cause her problems. He just didn’t know what to do to stop being sick. Peter had been doing fine until four months ago, shortly after his aunt had started dating Christopher, and he wondered if it was something psychological because his aunt had started dating.

It wasn’t clear why his health had plummeted, Peter just wanted to get better. He just didn’t know how.

Peter lifted a trembling hand to his face to wipe his wet cheeks and eyes, wincing as the IV on the back of his hand was pulled.

“Oh, you’re awake,” a voice said, causing Peter to look toward the door. He was shocked to see Mr. Stark standing there, one arm holding a gift basket and a stuffed animal in the other.

“Msser St-“ he was interrupted by a coughing fit that made his lungs burn. A moment later there was a hand on his back and another pulling his oxygen mask up to his face, not even having noticed that it was there. “Take deep breaths, Underoos,” he murmured more gently than Peter would have thought possible.

Peter obeyed him, taking in slow and steady breaths. It was a bit painful for a while, but then it started to burn less, and finally it was better and he could breathe. Peter all but collapsed back onto the pillows, his brow covered in sweat, and he had to leave the mask on over his face. “Why... you here?” he managed to get out, voice muffled.

The man had hastily dumped the basket and stuffed animal on the window ledge (it was wide and low enough for someone to sit on it) when he’d helped him with his oxygen mask, and now he had wet up the washcloth in the sink and was dabbing at his sweaty brow. It was surreal to see the influential man attending to him.

Tony ignored his question and encouraged him to drink some water, and then offered him the untouched breakfast tray. They must have brought it while Peter had still been sleeping and left it for when he awoke. He wasn’t feeling very hungry, but decided to indulge the man, even if he only ate the yogurt and half a piece of toast. Peter didn’t think he could eat the rubbery eggs they served here.

When he was finished with that, he looked pointedly at the man that had been typing on his phone while he ate, but now turned off the screen and slipped the slim phone into his inside jacket pocket. “I’m visiting you, Underoos,” he said, picking up the conversation as if he hadn’t all but shoved the food tray at him and ignored his earlier question. He arched a brow at the nickname, but the man ignored him, again.

“I met your unfairly attractive aunt on her way out, said to make sure you eat, take your medicine, and keep you company.” Peter rolled his eyes, since he very much doubted that.

Peter knew that for all her excitement for the internship and scholarship he’d gotten at SI, she wasn’t Tony Stark’s biggest fan. It mostly had to do with his past indiscretions, and even if he had changed his ways, she didn’t like Peter being too involved with him. And Peter had tried to point out on how he’d changed since he had shut down the weapon manufacturing department of Stark Industries, and then shortly after had the former CEO arrested for embezzlement and illegal weapons deals.

As for Peter, he admired the man’s sheer genius, even before he had done all this. He didn’t look at his past actions, but on his advances in science and technology. Also, he had made SI into one of the pioneers in clean energy.

When he had first started as an intern, the man had been super awkward with him, since he didn’t know how to behave with children. It had been almost painful to watch him hesitate to even pat him on the shoulder and his attempts at advice were the worse. There had been one embarrassing time in the elevator where he had reached out and Peter had thought he was initiating a hug.

Peter had been confused but he had hugged him anyways. “Not a hug, just pushing the elevator button. We’re not there yet.” The teenager had been sure he’d combust in embarrassment at the time, and he couldn’t even _yeet_ himself out a window because they were in an elevator.

In the month since then, he’d gone from being awkward, to being able to casually lay a hand on his back or shoulder, and to ruffle his hair affectionately. They’d gotten closer as mentor and mentee for sure, but that still didn’t explain why he was here.

“Mssr S’ark,” he slurred, feeling tired from his coughing fit. He hated being so damn weak that just a coughing fit exhausted him.

The man sighed and crossed his arms over his chest defensively. “Look, kid,” he started. “You didn’t come to the tower yesterday and when you didn’t show up today either, I called your aunt to make sure everything was alright.” He sighed as he rubbed at his eyes, the bags under them a constant thing, since he doubted the man got much sleep. “So, imagine my shock to learn that you almost died the other night,” he said, glaring at him like Peter had planned on getting pneumonia and almost dying. “So, I came right over.”

“M’sorry,” he said, voice still sounding hoarse. He felt shitty and weak, but the fact that Mr. Stark had come all this way to see him because he’d been worried made him happy. He was happy that Tony Stark had been worried about nerdy, asthmatic Peter Parker.

“Nope, I’m not accepting stupid apologies,” he said. Peter knew he didn’t say it in a mean way, but in that he had nothing to apologize for, and thus wouldn’t accepted it. “So, is there anything good on, or are there just those ridiculous reality shows?” Tony asked as he took up the remote control and turned on the television. He paused on a show with people in old looking clothing. “Ah, Downton Abbey. You know, Happy loves this show. He thinks it’s classy.”

Peter hadn’t known that, but it was nice to know something he previously hadn’t about the grumpy man. Tony kept up a running commentary on the show, showing that he had seen it before. It was nice to know that while the man didn’t show it, he cared about the people in his life. That meant, that he cared about him as well, even if he was some dumb high school intern.

He was here, after all.

\- ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

_June 15, 2015, Monday, 07:10AM_

  
Peter pulled the oxygen mask a bit higher on his face, hating having to wear it even now since his latest stint in the hospital had weakened his lungs. He felt embarrassed that Mr. Stark had been generous enough pay for it since it was expensive, claiming medical expenses were covered by his internship.

While it _did_ say that; they’d read it on there, Peter really didn’t know how to feel about it all. May had been skeptical, but had accepted only because it involved Peter’s health and wouldn’t let her pride stand in the way of him having what he needed.

Also, the man had come to see him at the hospital almost every day he’d been there, commenting about how his medical floor in the tower was better and telling May that ‘wouldn’t it be better for Peter to be transferred there?’ May had smiled, the kind that didn’t reach her eyes and that Peter knew meant she was losing patience, and told him that it wouldn’t be necessary. He’d dropped it after the third day when she’d asked to speak with him in the hallway, away from where Peter could hear them.

Peter found Mr. Stark’s defeated pout extremely funny.

It didn’t stop him from visiting him every day, and Peter felt some type of way about it. He felt almost like... feelings that were not of a mentee to a mentor, that was for sure. Almost like what he’d felt toward his uncle Ben, only more, since Ben had always been his uncle and not his father.

He felt his face warm as he thought of that now as he stepped out of the elevator on the 17th floor, feeling relieved that he had been able to come back. Or rather, convinced his aunt to let him come back, who had dropped him off on her way to work. He’d told her that he could lose his scholarship if he didn’t go, even if he knew Mr. Stark wouldn’t do that (don’t ask him why he was sure about this).

Since she’s dropped him off, he was the first one there besides Jacob, who had come over as they’d passed through security together. Even if they didn’t go through the front, there was still security through the side entrance. They were more familiar with the interns and that’s why they didn’t demand that Peter take off his breathing mask whenever he passed though. The head of security, an older gentleman, had taken a shine toward Peter, and he suspected it was because he reminded him of one of his grandchildren.

He lifted a tentative hand to the pin that he had on the collar of his shirt. It was fairly hot that day, so he’d worn a tank top and a dark blue stripped button down and blue jeans with the bottom of the legs rolled up. He did this so he could have a bit of air on his ankles, and he hated high water pants or any type of capri. He’d thought of wearing shorts, but he didn’t have many shorts to be honest. So, his Bi pin was on the lapel of his shirt

“There you are.” Peter glanced toward the private elevator that Mr. Stark usually used when he came down to oversee the intern’s work. He was wearing a pair of blue jeans and an AC/DC shirt, and it was unusual for him to seen in something other than his suits. He’d even worn them when he had visited him at the hospital. “Come on,” he said as he waved him over.

Peter hurried over, his new backpack heavy on his shoulders, since it had his oxygen tank in it and he was panting when he reached the man. It was a combination of the exertion and the added weight of the tank, which would take some time to get use to. Hopefully, he wouldn’t have to stay on oxygen long though, so wouldn’t have to get use to it. “Take it easy, kid. The elevator isn’t going anywhere,” he said, hand landing on his shoulder.

He smiled at the casual gesture and indulged in leaning a bit closer, but not necessarily pressed to his side. After all, he wasn’t sure if they were _there_ yet, and didn’t want another embarrassing moment like the last time they’d been in an elevator together. He really would _yeet_ himself out the next window if that happened.

So, he was surprised when the man’s hand moved so he could drape his arm over his shoulders and pull him closer, and next thing he knew he was pressed into his side. Peter bit his lip and closed his eyes, the man’s expensive cologne filling his nose even with the mask on, he was so close, and he felt warm and safe. It was something he hadn’t thought he would ever feel ever since Ben had died, and he could admit that he might have shed a happy tear or two.

The elevator arrived at the man’s lab, dashing away the parental feels he was experiencing with awe and a bit of fanboying over being inside _Tony Stark personal lab_. It was the best intern day ever, especially since he was able to spend the rest of the day there.

When the day was over and Mr. Stark was accompanying him down to the parking garage so Happy could take him home (the man had insisted he accompany him), he reached over and ran a finger over his pin. Peter panicked, having generally forgotten he’d had it on and the fact that he hadn’t told his mentor( ~~father figure~~ ) that he was Bisexual. “I-it’s just a...”

“I’d almost forgotten to put mine on,” Mr. Stark said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small pin, that while it didn’t match his, had the same colors. “There, now we match,” he said with a grin. “Are you planning on going to the parade?”

Peter’s mouth had fallen open in shock when he saw him put on a pin with matching colors, and he nodded. “Mmhmm,” he said, turning away as he wiped at his face. The man’s hand landed on his head, fingers treading through the curly strands, before he pulled him closer for the same hug as before. He closed his eyes and took it as the accepting and understanding gesture it was. That it was alright to like whom he liked, and things wouldn’t change between them.

He felt the anxiety inside him fade.

\- ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

_June 27, 2015, Saturday_

Even if Peter had testified that he had seen the man, one Reginald Smith leave the Jones’s apartment, there wasn’t enough evidence to convict him. The twins hadn’t seen his face, and Peter had been suffering under the affects of pneumonia and collapsed soon after, so he wasn’t a reliable witness. They’d put a restraining order on the man, but it wouldn’t do them any good if the man came during the night again.

His aunt had offered to house them in their apartment for a few days after the man had been let out, and Miss Jones had agreed if only to keep her children safe. She’s finally woken up, and miraculously, there was no brain damage and the grief and guilty that Peter had been carrying around had left him. Although, he’d been less than thrilled about them staying with them. It wasn’t that he didn’t want them there or didn’t want them to be safe, but he didn’t think his Bisexual heart could take it.

“Is it a good idea to have them here?” Christopher told May the night before the twins were due to get there. They’d been mostly spending their time at the hospital with their mom, waiting for her to wake up. Now that the woman had, she had accepted for Riley and Hailey to stay with May and Peter while she recovered.

“What do you mean?” May asked the man, a frown on her features.

He reached for her hands to placate her. “It’s just that their father is dangerous. I’m just worried that having them here will put you or Peter in danger.”

Peter had shamelessly listened to the conversation, since the were having the conversation in the kitchen and Peter was in the living room, supposedly listening to music. He had been, but lowered the volume as he heard Christopher talking about the Jones’ twins. Peter felt his dislike for the man increase, since his reason for not liking them moving in was because he was a hopeless Bisexual mess. That didn’t mean he wanted them to stay in their unsafe apartment. He’d rather they be here and have to suffer his bi panics.

It was a good thing that May was in agreement with Peter’s way of thinking (not the bi panic, since she didn’t know he had a crush on _both_ the twins). The two moved in without incident the next day, Hailey sharing a room with his aunt (who wasn’t there most nights anyways), and Riley fucking Jones slept in his room, on the floor in a sleeping bag, but still!

Just after that first night, Hailey had come out of the bathroom in tiny shorts and a tank top, showing off more skin than he had ever seen outside of astral-projecting, and he’d walked in on Riley changing since he wasn’t use to having to knock on his own bedroom door. Peter had flushed scarlet, squeaked an apology and snapped the door closed. His poor bisexual heart couldn’t take it!

Hailey slept in May’s bed when his aunt was a work, since she’d started to take more night shifts so she could be there during the day. She worried about Peter being alone and having another attack, but Riley and Hailey had assured the woman that they’d look out for the younger teen. It was humiliating, since it was quite clear the twins saw him as a dumb kid, even if they were only a year older than him.

Even so, it was nice to come home from his internship and find Hailey helping May in the kitchen, which meant they’d have a non-burned meal. Riley would wave him over to the couch and he’d sit down next to him, and the other would throw an arm over his shoulder after too long, making his heart pound even if the action was a friendly one.

It had been almost two weeks with no sign of the twin’s father and Miss Jones’s ex-husband, and they’d decided to move back to their apartment the next weekend. Their mother had been in favor of it, since she’d soon be getting out of the hospital as well and she just wanted them to get back to their normal lives. As for Peter, he’d be sad to see them leave, since they’d been good company despite his bisexual panics over having them in close proximity.

Peter hadn’t astral-projected since that night either, and wondered why that was. He had no one he could talk to, and when he’d asked about the patient Wade Wilson, he’d been told the man had been discharged already. So, Peter didn’t know what to do if he ended up accidentally astral-projecting again.

Also, he’d nearly forgotten about the Pride Parade with everything that had happened, and he had the crazy idea to ask the twins if they wanted to go. He realized that his earlier thoughts about Riley being gay or perhaps bisexual weren’t wishful thinking now, since his dreams weren’t dreams at all. That meant, that Riley had sung that song to a boy, so perhaps he _was_ gay after all (or bisexual).

“So, there’s this thing tomorrow,” Peter said as he sat watching a movie with Riley again. The other had once more laid an arm across his shoulder and his fingers were idly playing with a strand of his curly hair. He hummed to show he was listening but didn’t take his eyes off the television screen. “I was wondering if you wanted to come with me?” Peter felt his cheeks start to heat up when he realized he’d made it sound like he was asking the other on a date, which wasn’t totally that. He wanted to also ask Hailey if she wanted to come.

“Ooh, like a date?” Hailey asked before he could correct himself; leaning over the back of the couch, way too close to Peter’s face. She turned a grin at her brother. “What do you say, Ri?”

Riley hissed at her angrily and flicked her on the forehead with the hand that wasn’t gripping Peter’s shoulder. “Stop teasing him, dumbass,” he snapped as she yelped and straightened with a hand where he’d flicked her. Riley looked at the younger boy who face had flushed bright red. “Sorry, I can’t go with you. I have other plans tomorrow.”

“Oh, okay,” he said. He stood, the other’s arm falling away from his shoulder. “I n-need to go finish my summer homework.” Peter had already finished it, but it was just an excuse to flee from the room. He heard Riley hiss something at his sister before he closed the door. He sat at his desk, not knowing what to do now since it was still too early to go to bed.

Peter decided to do his breathing early, so he’d be able to sleep more peacefully. He put on the mask, doing up the straps but not too tightly or it would leave marks on his face. He breathed in deeply as the medicine started to enter his nostrils and start to enter his airways and then lungs. This was the first night he’d go back to the machine, since he’d been on mandatory oxygen. Now, he was better enough to go back to his regular nightly treatments, and Peter (and May) were hopeful that his heath would improve. They’d switched medicines and Christopher had checked the machine just yesterday, so everything was fine.

It had been decided that he’d start with a four hour treatment. Peter took his phone out and started to text Ned, updating him on his health. The heavyset boy had visited him several times while he’d been in the hospital (fanboying when he’d met Mr. Stark once). He wanted to spend some time with him that didn’t involve hospital rooms and his sickness, and asked if he wanted to come over for a Star Wars marathon this weekend. The agreed, expressing excitement at the idea, and Peter grinned at being able to have a lazy weekend with his best friend.

He was about to respond, when the world seemed to lurch and he was suddenly on the ground. He hadn’t even realized he’d passed out until he felt hands on his face.

“Peter?! Wake up,” he heard someone yelling. He moaned as his eyes opened and saw both twin’s looking down at him with matching worried expressions. “Are you okay? What happened?”

“T.. The medicine makes me sick sometimes,” he told them, feeling his head spin as he tried to sit up. This felt like deja vu all over again to when his health started to decline almost four months ago, and he was terrified that this was just the start.

Riley had to help him stand and then to the bed, Hailey gently pulling off the mask and turning off the machine after looking for the power button. Riley pulled his shoes off and pushed back his blankets, and insisted he lay down even if Peter assured him that he’d been fine. Even then, he found his eyes closing soon after as he fell into a deep sleep.

When he opened his eyes next, he was standing next to his body.

 _‘Here we go again,’_ Peter sighed, since his astral-projecting had started soon after he’d started to frequently get sicker and sicker.

He moved out of his room, seeing that neither of the twins were there anymore and wondered what they were doing. “So, what do you think?” Hailey asked her brother from the kitchen, making a sandwich.

Riley was sitting on the couch texting on his phone and didn’t seem to have heard her at first. “About what?” he asked.

“About what just happened?” The girl was silent a moment before she spoke again, her voice quiet and sad. “You think he’s dying?”

Peter felt a cold feeling of dread at Hailey’s words, not having allowed himself to think of that. He didn’t want to think that his declining health meant that he didn’t have long, that he was dying.

Riley finally turned to glare at her. “Don’t say that kind of shit where he can hear you,” he told her seriously. He glanced toward the hallway that led to the bedrooms, looking through Peter, and he didn’t like the look on his face, that told he was thinking the same thing as his sister. He went back to his phone when it beeped, a slight smile lifting his lips.

“You know he likes you, right?”

Riley’s hand tightened around his phone. “No, he doesn’t,” he stressed. “He’s just a kid.”

Hailey scoffed. “You know he isn’t. He’s a year younger than us.” She walked over and leaned over the side of the couch to look at him in the face even as he pointedly didn’t glance at her. “He’s just your type, isn’t he? Small and mousy, and with those curls. I’m surprised you haven’t made a move on him, what with sleeping in the same room as him every night.”

“Shut up, Hailey,” he sighed, seemingly tired of her. Peter wondered if they’d had this conversation already, when he wasn’t in the room, it certainly seemed so. “You know why.”

Peter felt his heart leap in his chest, wondering if the other _had_ thought of making a move, or that he was interested in him.

“Why? Cause of dad?”

“Don’t call him that. That bastard isn’t our father,” he growled, glowering down at his phone even if the screen wasn’t on. “I hate him.”

“Well, that makes two of us, but even then, he is still our father.” She had gone back to sit at the counter separating the kitchen and the small dining table. The girl bit into her sandwich while her brother texted someone, and Peter found himself growing curious. He knew it was wrong, but he just couldn’t help wanting to know who he was texting.

Peter leaned over the couch the same way Hailey had done, peering down at his phone. The messages were coming from someone marked as ‘Evan’ on Riley’s contact list.

 **Evan:** I can’t wait to see you 😍😘😉

 **Riley:** Me too,sisters driving me crazy

 **Evan:** About what?

 **Riley:** The guy that we’re staying with,has a crush on me or something

 **Evan:** Should I be jealous?

 **Riley:** Nah,he’s just some kid

 **Evan:** Send me a pic

 **Riley:** He’s sleeping

 **Evan:** Must be a baby to be asleep @ 8:30

 **Riley:** Sure

Peter stopped reading after that, feeling embarrassed that Riley saw him as a child and dismissed him so easily. So, he guessed it was time to stop being an idiot with his crush on the older boy. He should have known someone like Riley, who was cool (in both attitude and popularity) wouldn’t be interested in nerdy, asthmatic Peter Parker.

He also felt bad for purposefully invading his privacy again, when he’d promised he would stop. It was true that Riley didn’t know, but that didn’t make it right. He guessed he’d only imagined the other kissing him in the hospital the day they’d visited him in the ICU. How foolish he’d been acting these last few days, like a stupid pre-pubescent tween; like a stupid kid.

The fourteen year old turned back toward the room, thinking it was enough astral-projecting for tonight, even if he hadn’t done it on purpose. Before he left, Riley spoke and he couldn’t help pausing to listen to the older boy’s words.

“I hope he doesn’t,” he mumbled.

“What? Have a crush on you?” Hailey asked, but Peter didn’t want to hear anymore. He didn’t want to know how much Riley would hate Peter having a crush on him.

He passed through the door as he spoke, but he was suddenly falling back into his body that he didn’t fully register the words.

“No, that he doesn’t die. I don’t want that...”

Peter was falling, falling so fast and so long, and he would have screamed if he had a mouth. So, he was mute as he fell through the void that separated the living world and the limbo where the dead, and sometimes Peter, walked.-


	6. Fly On Wings, Forever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The night before Pride...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m hoping ( ~~in vain~~ ) that this doesn’t stretch out to eight chapters, but it’s looking like it might. This chapter didn’t even seem so long until I looked at the word count and realized how long it had gotten. So, this might turn into eight chapters, which I don’t want. I have a bit more to write before I get to the end of this particular story that’s taking up my life. Hopefully I can finish this up and then get back to He Makes Him Happy and White Roses. And don’t even get me started on the sequel to Martin Child, because I have some plans for that.

**Till I Touch The Sky  
Chapter Six:** _Fly On Wings, Forever_

\- ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

 _”It can turn the whole world upside down  
Shake it 'til the sky falls to the ground  
We don't have to reap the fear they sow  
Friends, as long as we hide our love away  
  
_ _In the good they'll never know  
It can see us through these dark days  
Though they seem to darken as we go  
  
_ _Our love will see us through these dark,  
dark days sister  
_ _'Til it lights the way back home  
Sister, hide our love away...”_

~Dark Days - Punch Brothers

\- ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

_June 28, 2015, Sunday, 02:34AM_

Peter shot up in bed with a gasp, getting a mouth and lungful of medicine. It seemed someone had put on the nebulizer mask on him as he slept, and as his stomach heaved, he clawed at the mask to get it off. He tumbled off his bed in his haste, landing on something soft that grunted in pain, but pushed this to the back of his head as he scrambled to the bathroom.

He was barely able to get the toilet cover and seat up in time before he was throwing up everything he’d eaten earlier. The floor was hard and uncomfortable under his knees, grounding him since the room spun around him. Then he felt a hand on his back and another holding his hair away from his face. The hand was warm and gentle as he wondered when his hair had gotten so long, but his stomach roiled once more, and he was violently sick again.

“No more,” he sobbed, tears running down his face, or maybe it was sweat. “Please,” he whimpered as he felt his stomach lurch and he was vomiting a third time. He hadn’t even known he had eaten so much.

He would have collapsed if it wasn’t for whoever was helping him as they held him up. “May?” he moaned weakly, not remembering that the woman was at work. A voice shushed him and pressed a cup of cool water to his mouth, he rinsed his mouth and then spat it in the sink that was suddenly in front of him, and then drank greedily from it.

“What are you doing?” a voice, cold and unkind, asked. Peter thought he recognized it but couldn’t really be sure, and the arms around him tensed. He realized that he was in someone’s lap and they were sitting on the toilet seat, not even realizing that it had been flushed to take away his sick.

“He was throwing up. I was helping him,” he heard Riley’s voice say. Peter realized that he was in Riley’s lap, the one who had rubbed his back as he threw up had been Riley. He would have been having another Bi panic if he wasn’t feeling like shit.

He thought he knew who he was talking to, but Peter didn’t care to acknowledge this person as his eyes closed without meaning to. “I’ll take him. Go back to sleep,” the mean voice said and felt them step closer.

Peter was scared and didn’t know why, and he must have made a sound because the hands pulled him against a firm body; Riley’s body he realized. “I got him, Chris. We’re sharing a room anyways. I’ll get him into bed.”

He must have dozed off, because he suddenly felt Riley jerk backwards and he gave a groan as that caused his stomach to lurch unpleasantly. Peter realized that there was someone talking, but he wasn’t able to make out what they were saying. He tried to force his eyes open, not realizing when he’d even closed them. “Change his shirt,” the voice —Chris’s voice, he suddenly realized— snapped, sounding disgusted. “It’s got vomit on it.” He was then leaving, the bathroom door slamming closed and involuntarily pulling a whimper from his throat.

“You’re okay,” Riley murmured against his ear. He might have considered himself lucky at having the older boy so close if he wasn’t feeling sick and gross. Peter drifted in and out of consciousness and didn’t even realize they’d left the bathroom, Riley asking him something but he felt too exhausted to respond. “Fuck,” Riley hissed, voice sounding odd.

He felt his shirt being pulled off and forced his eyes open, seeing Riley over him as lay on the bed on his back. The other paused, probably seeing his eyes in the dim light, since he’d turned on the closet light. “Hey, are you awake?” he whispered, hand moving to his cheek. “I’m changing your shirt. Do you think you can pull the clean one on?” He paused and moved a bit to the side so the light could shine on him. “Shit, hold on.”

Riley moved away and left the room, Peter letting his eyes close as he heard the sound of the water running in the sink. He startled awake when he was suddenly back at his side, a cold, wet wash cloth moving over his neck and chest. “You have vomit on you,” he apologized, seeing him flinch from the cold water.

Peter moaned as he pulled him up after he was finished, sitting up as he sagged against the taller boy. He had already noticed he was at least six feet tall, since Peter wasn’t that tall himself. When he pulled a clean shirt closer, Peter lifted his arms in an attempt to help him, starting to feel embarrassed at the other having to dress him.

His face felt hot now that he realized that he was shirtless in front of Riley, the boy he had a crush on. The same boy that had seen him throwing up as he held his hair back, and then had all but carried him to the bed. “I c-can do it,” he stuttered when he reached behind him to pull down the sleeveless shirt. Damn, it was a tank top, and he’d not worn any on purpose since they’d gotten here so they wouldn’t see his flimsy arms.

“Peter, you can barely sit up,” he said, continuing to pull the shirt down. Peter was so glad he hadn’t gotten any sick on his pajama pants, since that would have been so much worse. Finally, he was finished and leaned forward to help him lay back and Peter pulled his legs up before he tried to help him like some invalid. He managed to pull the blanket up with a sigh, feeling way better. “Do you want your mask back on?”

The younger boy groaned and shook his head, stopping when it made the room spin. His chest hurt and knew that he needed it, but he was so tired of being sick all the time. “No, please,” he begged. “I don’t want to be sick anymore.”

_07:46AM_

That was all he remembered, not even having stayed awake long enough to hear the other’s response. When he next opened his eyes, there was sun filtering through the partially open blinds, and he realized he was alone in the room. Riley must have left early, since when he checked his phone he saw that it wasn’t even eight yet. It was likely that him and Hailey had gone to visit their mother, since they tended to go in the mornings. They were usually back by the time Peter returned from his internship, which was usually just before two in the afternoon.

Peter got up, since he knew he had to get showered and dressed if he wanted to go to the parade. There was never anyway to get a good parking spot whenever there were parades, so his aunt had said they’d take the train and probably get a taxi back. As he went into the restroom, he heard her puttering around in the kitchen, and hopefully any breakfast wouldn’t be burnt toast and eggs with eggshell pieces in it. Maybe if he got out quickly he’d convince her that he was fine with cereal.

He was still a bit shaky but not terrible, like he could face plant, and he wondered if she knew he’d been sick last night. Peter barely recalled that Riley had helped him last night, and another voice. His memory was hazy at best, but maybe he’d remember later.

After dressing and a bowl of cereal (she hadn’t gotten past the burnt toast and had trashed it and had a bowl of cereal as well), they were ready to go. After saying goodbye to Chris who was still sleeping on the couch, they left the apartment and she held out the bi flag so he could drape across his shoulders and he’d smiled and taken it, but it was when she’d pulled on a Ally pin that he beamed joyfully. He felt happy that she was not only taking him to the parade, but supported him.

There were a lot of people on the train that wooped or cried out when they saw them, and both he and May reciprocated their greeting, albeit a bit more subdued. As they moved along, more and more people heading toward the parade got on, some more flamboyant than others and Peter looked at them a bit in awe at their daring and not caring who knew they were of the LGBT+ community and where they were going. Peter hoped to be like them one day, since he hadn’t dressed too flashy and in fact, he hadn’t even worn anything remotely having to do with the Pride Parade. He was actually wearing one of his pun shirts, which were usually science but today it was a math one with the words ‘Do The Math Dance’ and then several figures doing dances according to the math equations below it.

It always made him laugh, even if some didn’t get what math and dancing had to do with the other. He usually didn’t bother to explain, preferring to have a private laugh with himself whenever he wore it.

However, the shirt was black, but hoped that having worn shorts he thus wouldn’t get too hot. His aunt had packed his backpack with water, snacks, sunscreen, some hats and a small first aid kit. There was also an extra shirt for him, which was another one of his science pun t-shirts, but this one was gray one that had a heart on it, but the heart was made up of all science related things. He’d been told that it was a bit of a girly shirt, but he didn’t think so. After all, science was gender neutral; anyone could love it.

She carried it, since Peter had to carry his oxygen tank. He didn’t need to have it every day but his aunt had said that with the heat, the smog and the crowd, it’d be best for him to use it. Peter was only glad he had left the mask behind and now had the nose cannula. By then he’d mostly gotten use to the weight of the small oxygen tank.

When they finally arrived on street level, he could already feel the change in the air from how it usually was. There was a charged feeling, an excitement that he could feel that felt like it was flowing into his body and he just wanted to move. He grabbed his aunt’s hand and pulled her forward, the weight of the oxygen tank not slowing him down as they both ran down the two blocks away from where the parade was. Peter heard his aunt telling him to slow down, but he couldn’t, hearing the beat of the music playing, felt it.

He was winded when they finally got there, the press of bodies all around them not helping, and suddenly there was glitter and music, and so much _color_. Everyone looked so excited, and the pulse of the music led to some dancing or jumping up and down. It was almost poignant for Peter to be here now, at his first Pride Parade, when just two days ago the Supreme Court legalized gay marriage in all 50 states.

Peter knew he was too young to be married, or to even think about it, but it was nice to know that if he ever wanted to marry another boy (or man, since by then he’d be one too), then he would be free to do so. And now, as they moved along enjoying the parade, dancing with his aunt as he giggled and had a good time, he was able to see several marriage proposals both of two women, and two men.

The teenager thought it was the most romantic thing he’d ever seen.

Peter saw that a lot of people had rainbow flags, and wondered if they were being sold somewhere. He would liked to have one in his colors, and when he asked his aunt if they could look, she wholeheartedly agreed. She made it her mission to make sure he got a little flag to wave around, and they went into several shops. A lot of them had Pride merchandise for sale, and grew curious as they entered the book store.

There were many books by LGBT+ authors being showcased there, and he grew curious as he lifted one that looked interesting. He wondered if Michelle, who had a great love of reading, had read any of these, since he knew she was part of the community. Peter was ashamed to realize that he didn’t actually know if she was bisexual like him, a lesbian, non-binary or perhaps gender fluid. They didn’t really talk all that much, even if she almost always say close to him and Ned.

Peter decided to speak to her more next year, their first year of high school. They’d had Midtown come to their school for a fair to present the electives available to take next year, and he’d seen her talking to a pretty girl from the decathlon team. Peter and Ned had already signed up for robotics and math club, and since they were in band already, they’d likely transition to the high school one. However, Peter had been thinking of quitting band, since he played a wind instrument and he couldn’t keep at it due to his asthma.

He would ask Ned if he wanted to quit band with him and join the decathlon team instead. If not, it was fine, but he was quitting either way. Maybe being on the same after school club could mean that he became friends with Michelle. Then they’d become a trio instead of a duo. The Golden Trio, like in Harry Potter.

As they left the bookstore, book tucked safely away and a new small bi flag in hand, he lifted up as he saw the marching band passing by from the police department. Now, there were literally thousands (if not more) people at the parade, and it stretched far down the street, so the chances of seeing someone he knew were slim. It was almost impossible, unless they met up somewhere. So, he was shocked as he saw someone he knew on that other side of the street; Riley Jones.

He had on a black tank top with a rainbow on the front of it and dark green cargo shorts, and his usual dark brown boots. Of course Peter had seen the other without his shirt on, because he’d walked in on him changing (he’d thankfully ~~unfortunately~~ already put on his sleeping pants). However, there was something attractive seeing him in the clothes the older boy wore, which wasn’t overly gay, if clothing could be called as such. Peter could almost say the other dressed like a straight boy, but not in a bad way. He just liked this one faded blue jean jacket a lot, since Peter had seen him in it before they’d ever become acquainted.

Riley was hand in hand with another boy, that looked to be about Peter’s height, since he reached about his shoulder, and was probably Riley’s age. He had light hair that could be considered dirty blonde; he had on some flamboyant rainbow leggings, black ripped booty shorts and a white tiny tank top with something on the front that Peter couldn’t make out from where he stood. From this distance the other, whom he realized had to be the Evan from Riley’s phone, looked attractive and Peter knew that if he met him out of context he’d be a bisexual mess. Except, he was with Riley, whom Peter had a crush on.

Now Peter knew why they called it a crush.

“Hey, bud, you alright?” May asked as they left the parade. It was almost 2pm but they decided to head out so they could get to the Dance At The Pier early, which would start at 3pm. May wasn’t too much of an Ariana Grande fan and neither was Peter, but it was sure to be a nice time and the tickets hadn’t been too expensive.

“Yeah,” he said with a smile. She didn’t know of his crush on the older boy and wanted to keep it that way. Ned was the only one that knew, the second person he’d come out to after his aunt. He’d been accepting and their relationship hadn’t changed. Ned Leeds was definitely the best friend ever.

He decided to put the whole thing to the back of his mind and just have fun. Even if he didn’t know many of the songs, he danced and had fun. They had to leave before it got too dark since Peter had started to get really tired. He hated that they had to leave even as his aunt reassured him that it was fine, since she was tired as well and had a shift early tomorrow morning.

Even so, as they left they strolled along the path that would lead them along the Hudson River Park before taking a taxi home. His phone started ringing and Peter wondered who was calling him, since he always texted with his friends. He was surprised to see that it was Tony Stark. “Hey, Mr. Stark, what’s up?” he asked, glancing at May as she titled her head in question.

_‘Pete, where are you?’_

“Uh, leaving Pier 26,” he told him. “We’re at Hudson River Park but about to head home.”

_’Wait there. I’m coming to get you both.’_

Peter frowned, wondering what had happened. He sounded strange, a hard edge to his voice. “What’s happening?” he asked, thinking that maybe there was a problem with his internship; perhaps with his project.

 _‘I’m coming.’_ Peter only heard the line beeping to signal that he’d hung up.

“Was that Tony?” May asked, even if she knew it had been. “What did he want?”

“Uh, he says he’s coming to get us.”

May blinked in bewilderment. “Whatever for?”

Peter shrugged and the woman sighed, telling him to sit down in a nearby bench while she went to get them something to drink. While the sun had gone down, the night was still hot and she could always tell when the heat was getting to him and they’d finished the water she had brought that day. While she was gone, his phone started to beep and frowned as he wondered what that meant.

“Pete!” The teenager’s head lifted in surprise and saw Mr. Stark striding toward him. He was wearing a suit, almost like he had just walked out of a meeting or something, since he had started to spend more time with him in his lab, he’d gotten use to seeing him in casual clothes. Peter stood with a frown at the serious look on his face.

“What’s happening?” Peter asked as he grabbed him by the sleeve, getting a bad feeling. There was something wrong, he could see it in his face. “Tell me,” he demanded when he hesitated.

Tony sighed, lifting his face when he saw May Parker coming back their way. “Sit down a moment, Pete,” he said. He would have refused if the man hadn’t sat down first. Peter lowered himself slowly onto the bench, his aunt sitting down close to him as she put an arm around Peter’s shoulders. “I usually have someone keeping tabs on the interns, making sure they’re safe due to the increased risk from being involved with SI.”

Peter wanted to tell him to get on with it, to stop stalling but held his tongue. “So, you have someone spying on us?” May asked, her hands tightening on Peter’s shoulders.

The man shook his head. “No, it’s nothing like that. There are just several people that work with the police department that are friends of mine, and if one of my interns names or even their address appear on any kind of report, they give me a call.” He glanced out toward the water as the fireworks started to go off, lighting up the night sky in an array of bright colors and wondrous designs. “Your apartment building came up when that woman was attacked, but since it wasn’t your apartment number I dismissed it. Only later did I realize that the underage John Doe they’d carted off was Peter.”

“What’s happened, Tony?” May asked, mirroring Peter’s impatience.

Tony looked at them both. “The same address came up again late this afternoon, and I got a call.”

May’s hands tightened almost painfully on Peter’s shoulders now, but the teen barely felt it as his heart pounded loudly in his own ears. “W... what happened?” Peter whispered.

Peter had told Tony of the twins, Hailey and Riley, which had come to live with them for a time. The man had given the boy a knowing smirk as he spoke of them that he never acknowledged. He knew of them, what had happened to their mother that made them come to live with the Parkers. Tony _knew_ what the two older teens had come to mean to Peter, that he cared for them beyond his stupid crush; both him and May.

“I... I’m sorry,” he said, Peter never having heard him sound so hesitant. “That bastard came back. Some of the neighbors heard the commotion and didn’t let him get away... but they were too late.”

Peter reached out and grabbed him by the suit jacket. “What happened?!”

“The girl... Hailey,” he said softly, hands coming to cover Peter’s own. “She’s gone. He killed her.”

May gave a sob, arms coming around Peter’s shoulder as she pulled him back against her in a comforting gesture. Peter didn’t even feel her arms and just stared at Tony in disbelief, mouth opening but no sound came out; no words able to describe the grief and horror he felt in that moment.

Hailey Jones was dead?

\- ~ - ~ - ~ - ~


	7. Suspended In The Darkness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The days after a tragedy...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... this turned into eight chapters, but I expected nothing less from my long winded muses. The next chapter will be posted as soon as I finish it, no waiting. I’m on a roll, and it’s all coming together in my head. See, I knew the ending, but just not how I’d get there or what would happen. I just wrote whatever came to mind. Like the ending of the last chapter, I didn’t know it would happen until I was writing it. I’d never planned it, it just.... happened. The same with the ending of this chapter. It just happened _*shrug*_
> 
>  **Edit:** I put the wrong date on this chapter, but it’s been changed.

**Till I Touch The Sky  
Chapter Seven:** _Suspended In The Darkness_

\- ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

_”Only wanting to be held  
Still kept in the blind  
In the morning cold and rain  
When everything is still untouched_

_Courage don't fail me  
For now I'm learning  
Courage don't leave me now_

_Reveal it  
Our place untold  
Just breathing  
So uncontrolled_

_Courage don't fail me...”_

~Cage - Ed Carlsen

\- ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

_July 8, 2015, Wednesday, 09:46am_

It was almost physically impossible for him to step out of the elevator, his legs shaking beneath him, and Tony’s hand on his shoulder was the only thing keeping him on his feet. He could feel tears on his face as they walked down the hallway toward his apartment door, head hanging down so he wouldn’t have to see the yellow police tape blocking the Jones’s apartment door. Tony had his keys, since he’d refused to grab them out of his pocket when they’d arrived. Peter didn’t want to be here, wanted to run away from this place and the harsh truth of Hailey Jones not being alive anymore. It didn’t feel real to him, half expecting to hear the girl’s teasing voice call out to Peter or Riley.

Oh, Riley...

Tony had tracked him down using his phone, since neither May or Peter wanted the boy to be blindsided if he were to arrive at the apartment building and find out like that. May wanted his mother to have been the one to tell him, but the woman was inconsolable and the news of her daughter’s death had been detrimental to her health. It was also the fact that she’d ripped the VIs and tried to walk on a still broken leg to try and get to her daughter that had caused further trauma to her injuries. She’d been on the phone with her as soon as she’d calmed down enough, asking her what she should do about Riley.

 _‘Find him, May,’_ the woman had sobbed on the other end of the line. _‘F-find my baby. If something happens to him... God, I may as well just close my eyes and die!’_

They found him at a dance club of all places, likely having gotten in with a fake ID and Tony and May had gone looking for him while Peter stayed in the car with a grim looking Happy. The older boy had come out with an annoyed expression at being dragged out, but got over it quickly when he saw Peter’s somber face, which matched May’s now that he saw her in a better light. He demanded to know what the matter was, shoulders hunching up almost like he was preparing for a blow. And what a blow it was when May finally told him the terrible news.

“What the hell are you saying?” Riley growled, hands balled into fists as his whole body tensed defensively. “Don’t you fucking say that... don’t you fucking say those words!” He lunged for the door handle, the Audi modified so it had two seats like a limo in the back, and May cried out because the car was moving!

Peter was closer to him and grabbed him in a panic, grunting as the bigger boy fought him as his back was slammed against the backseat. “Let me go,” he snarled. “Fuck... no.... not Hailey.... _**Hailey**_!” Then Riley was screaming and Peter held him that much tighter, his hands grabbing him right back in a bruising grip that Peter barely felt. “I shouldn’t’ve left her.... shoulda been me... oh _God_ ,” he sobbed, burying his face against Peter’s shoulder as the younger boy’s own tears ran down his face.

May moved over, wrapping her arms around both of them. Tony watched them with slightly wet eyes, saddened at the death of a girl that had had her whole life ahead of her, but had been cruelly snatched away by a monster that was supposed to have protected her, loved her.  
  
  
Peter’s eyes ached, having been unable to stop crying almost since last Sunday, and from the lack of sleep, so he was exhausted. They weren’t staying here, since Peter had been unable to return to the place that he had spent laughing with and being teased by Hailey. She had been a bit abrasive and could make Peter blush beet-red, but her smile and laugh had been contagious. Even while she teased and annoyed, it was obvious she didn’t do it maliciously; she had loved her brother and mother. Now, she was gone. Peter hadn’t known her for long, but he would miss her.

Mr. Stark said he and Happy would wait for him there, and he moved quickly to his bedroom. The apartment was eerily quiet and didn’t want to spend a moment longer here than he had to.

He quickly stuffed several changes of clothes in his backpack, his charger for his phone, his earbuds and his notebook where he kept his notes for the project he was working on with Mr. Stark. When he was done with that, he quickly grabbed the bag that Riley had used to bring over his own things when he and Hailey had moved in. He had never unpacked in the time he’d been there and maybe it was because he knew it was temporary, but Peter had felt that it was like he was trying to distance himself from the Parkers.

He was friendly, threw an arm around Peter’s shoulders as they watched the television, but never spoke of himself or of their situation. Peter knew their father was a threat, had come to the conclusion that he had likely abused him and Hailey, but neither twin had ever confirmed or spoke of it. At least, not to Peter.

Thus he was confused as to why Hailey had been at their old apartment, when the man was such a threat to them all. He had nearly killed their mother less than a month ago. There were no answers, not for her grieving mother or distraught brother. Peter wished he could help them, in some way to ease the pain.

For now, all he could do was get Riley’s bag for him so he didn’t have to come back here where his sister had died.

They were staying at Stark Tower for a moment until the unforeseeable future, especially since now Megan Jones (the twins’s mother) had to stay longer at the hospital after this tragedy. May had stayed with the other boy most of that first night, not being able to face his mother due to feeling responsible. His aunt had told Riley over and over that it wasn’t his fault, that the only one responsible was Reginald Smith, whom was behind bars. Peter was sure he hadn’t even heard her.

Tony had taken the death of this girl almost personal, especially as she had been a friend of Peter, and had pressured the DA’s office into ensuring the police department get a conviction. He’d told them that the DA had a solid case despite some discrepancies, especially with several of the apartment tenants clamoring to testify to see Hailey get justice. The man denied having killed the girl, but there were enough witnesses that heard him shouting in the apartment, and when they came in, he was standing over the girl’s body. He would likely go away for a long time.

Riley was unmoved when they told him, barely leaving the room that Tony had given him, which was across the hallway from Peter’s own room. Any other time Peter would have been ecstatic that Tony had given him a room (obviously designed with Peter in mind due to the Periodic and Star Wars posters on the walls), but now he just felt tired and sad. He had sat with the older boy several times in the last week and a half, but Riley mostly ignored him. This didn’t deter Peter as he either read, surfaced the web, or sometimes told him of his project at SI. He wasn’t sure if he was helping the taller teenager, but he hoped he at least found some comfort with his presence.

Riley had been using Tony’s clothes, since the man was only three inches shorter than the soon to be sixteen year old. Maybe before the adolescent would have found it hilarious that he was taller than the genius and billionaire (and been shocked to have met him), but as things were, he had only mumbled thanks that first night and gone to take a shower.

So, that’s how things had been for nine days, but Riley had expressed a need to wear his own clothes. Peter had volunteered to go in a spur of the moment thing, and also to get clothes for Hailey once the coroner released her body. He couldn’t enter the Jones’s apartment yet, but Peter was sure she should have something in the clothes she’d taken to the Parkers.

Peter entered his aunt’s bedroom, wondering if he would have to take all her clothes and started to head toward the closet. He was confused not to see anything hanging inside, and instead he found Hailey’s bag. It was packed and ready to go. That was odd. Maybe his aunt had packed for her?

While Riley had never unpacked, Hailey had and made herself right at home. Her make-up, and other personal hygiene things had been on May’s dresser and inside the bathroom as well. Now, all of them had been put away into the travel bag they’d been brought in, and wondered how he hadn’t noticed that Sunday when he’d gotten up to get ready for the parade.

Why had Hailey packed all her things when they weren’t supposed to leave until this coming weekend? It made no sense. Hailey couldn’t tell them why anymore, and Riley mostly refused to speak.

He wondered... no, it was too dangerous. Wade had said not to speak to wraiths or ghosts or whatever they were. Besides, there was no guarantee that Hailey’s spirit was even still here. He didn’t have the sight like Wade did and would only be able to see her if he astral-projected.

Besides, Tony was waiting for him. He doubted the man would wait while he took a nap, and he couldn’t astral-project at will yet. Also, Peter was scared that he _would_ see her, and he wasn’t sure how he’d feel if he saw that Hailey hadn’t passed on and was wandering around here. Peter wouldn’t able to live with that knowledge, and keep it quiet.

So, he grabbed Hailey’s already packed bags and headed back to the living room where he’d left his own backpack and Riley’s bag. Mr. Stark was sitting on the couch in the living room, and when he didn’t see the bags, he assumed he’d sent Happy down to put them in the car, since he didn’t see him anywhere.

“Ready to go, kid?”

Peter nodded, feeling like he was suffocating in this place. He hurried out of the apartment, keeping his head down again so he didn’t have to look at the sealed off apartment.

As he stepped into the elevator, he couldn’t resist a glance back, and thought he saw someone by their apartment door. Tony gently nudged him forward before he could see them clearly, and Peter dismissed it as a shadow and continued on.

\- ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

 _10:56am_  
Peter stepped out of the elevator by himself, his backpack on his back, Hailey’s smaller bag thrown over his head to rest on his shoulder, and her larger bag and Riley’s own in each hand. He staggered from the weight of the bags, hearing the sound of the television at low volume somewhere down the hallway. It sounded like it was coming from the living room, and wondered if Riley had actually left his room.

Tony had gotten off on a lower floor, since he had several meetings scheduled that day which he hadn’t been able to get out of. So, he was alone as he moved down the hallway, setting all the bags down in front of his bedroom door so he could pick up later, and noticed that Riley’s bedroom door was ajar. That meant he had to have left the room, so moved quickly down to the living area.

The television, which was a massive 70 inch flat screen TV that took up most of the wall, was on. There were large floor to ceiling windows that took up the west side of the room, so there was plenty of sunlight coming in. There was what Peter called L shaped couches which were expensive but comfortable, and two chairs which all surrounded an equally expensive looking coffee table (it was in three parts with two that almost looked like foot rests). There was what was probably expensive art pieces hanging on the walls and close to the windows by the spiral staircase that led up to Tony’s penthouse suite. There was more of the living room, which included a hallway that led to the kitchen and a room that was either a pool or a hot tub, he wasn’t too sure since he hadn’t really explored much in the last two days.

The person he’d been searching for was laying on one side of the L shaped couch, covered by a blanket so only a tuffet of dark brown hair was seen. His sock-clad feet were hanging off the side of the couch, and he could make out that he had on the same sweatpants from yesterday.

Peter went over and sat on the couch by his head. “Riley, you should shower and change clothes,” he told him. The other grunted and shifted up so his head, blanket and all, was using his leg as a pillow and turned so his face was buried against his side. Peter sighed, feeling his face getting hot as his pitiful bi-heart started to beat faster and he ran his hand through the tangled strands of Riley’s hair that he could see. “Come on, you stink.”

“Rude,” the older boy grumbled, still sounding terribly sad. The other had just seemed to shut down, not having even answered his phone that had dinged several times with what were probably texts. He knew that it was probably that other boy he’d seen him with at the parade, Evan, and even if he was loath to encourage him to check his phone, he knew he couldn’t be petty. Maybe this Evan would help him where Peter couldn’t.

“Your phone keeps beeping,” he muttered. “You should check it.”

Riley grunted but didn’t move.

“My leg’s falling asleep,” he tried again.

The bundle of blankets sighed and shifted, and then he sat up. Peter let his hands fell away from his head, as he watched him. Riley was wearing one of Tony’s dark blue MIT t-shirts and gray sweatpants, and as he sat on the edge of the couch and pulled the blanket down, he saw how much more tousled Peter had made his hair by running his hand through it.

He stood and then shuffled off, Peter standing as he trotted after him to get him his bag. Peter grabbed it as well as Hailey’s two bags, bringing them to him as Riley paused at the door of the room Tony had given him to use. “Here, I got clothes... for her... she had already packed before...” he said, biting his lip in regret as Riley’s face contorted in grief.

Riley reached out with a shaking hands and grabbed her bags, not knowing what the other was feeling. It hadn’t just been his sister that he had lost, but his other half. They’d been together since they’d been born, having shared the womb. Riley and Hailey had been as close as a pair of siblings could be, and now it probably felt like a big part of Riley was missing. Peter didn’t know how he could still be standing.

As if the other had heard his thoughts, his legs buckled as he dropped the bags and Peter stepped forward in alarm, and catching hold of his shoulders. “I got you,” he whispered, shifting to support his weight. He staggered a bit but remained standing through will alone, not wanting the other to fall and also Riley hadn’t put all his weight on the smaller teen.

Peter pushed the door of Riley’s room open, walking in as the older boy leaned heavily against Peter. The younger teenager wondered if he should help him to the bathroom so he could shower, but was worried that he would collapse while showering. He seemed unsteady, so after a discreet sniff to make sure he didn’t really stink, he helped him to the bed. It likely wasn’t healthy for him to let himself wallow in his grief, but Peter didn’t have the heart to do anything else but let him sleep.

“Here,” he said as they made it to the bed, glad to see he hadn’t made it. Riley sat down hard and Peter reached forward to push him to lay back so he could cover him with the blanket. The other caught his hand and Peter froze, and his mouth opened in a silent gasp when Riley brought it to his face.

“Your hand is smooth,” he remarked as Peter stared down at him nonplussed. He had to look away, since he was starting to get really flustered and he wasn’t sure what he should do. This wasn’t a normal situation, and Riley wasn’t in the right state of mind at the moment. He’d thought the other might like him, because he remembered how he would always be putting his arm around him. Then he had helped him when he had been sick the night before the Parade. However, seeing him with Evan had crushed those thoughts.

Now, he wasn’t sure if he was in need of comfort or if he _did_ actually like him. But it was just not the best time, not while Riley was hurting.

So, he put on a forced smile and hoped the room was dim enough that he couldn’t tell how fake it was. “That’s because I do science instead of plucking the strings of a guitar like you,” he said, pulling his hand away and nudging him down.

Riley went without complaint, grunting a response as he lay down. “Leave it,” he said when he tried to pull the blanket over him, having turned onto his side so he was facing the wall. That’s how Peter left him, knowing he’d have to all but drag him out of bed later for a shower, and hoped May would help him when they finally had the funeral. He had his own grief to deal with and he couldn’t hope to hold both himself and Riley together during that.

\- ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

_July 31, 2015, Friday, 7:45pm_

Peter sighed as he collapsed in his own bed, having barely returned today after the funeral. The Jones’s apartment was still sealed off, but even if it hadn’t they doubted Riley would stay there. So, he was still staying with them until Miss Jones was released in two days, finally well enough to leave. At first May had offered her bed while Chris took the couch (the man was staying with them tonight for safety reasons even if Reginald Smith was in jail), but he had refused. He didn’t want to sleep in the same bed his sister had once slept in, no matter however brief. He’d also refused to sleep in Peter’s room after an expression had passed over his face too fast for Peter to be sure what it had been.

Peter had thought it was fear, but he had to be seeing things.

It was still early, but Peter felt tired, so after a quick goodnight to Chris (and a not so quick one to Riley), he’d gone to his room. Even now, he felt his eyelids growing heavy, but it _had_ been a tiring day for everyone involved. As he drifted off to sleep, he wondered why he felt hostility between Chris and Riley, it was weird.  
  
  
Peter blinked as he looked at his almost transparent hands, and then glanced at his body sleeping in the bed. _’Well, it’s been a while,’_ he muttered, since he hadn’t astral-projected a single time while at the tower. He would have likely been too scared to leave his room, since he knew that during Loki’s attack and then Ultron’s bombing, many people had died at the tower. He didn’t want to find that Mr. Stark’s bodyguard was still hanging around after having been killed. Peter thought his name had been Jarvis or something like that.

Although, he had the same fear here, since he was scared that... Hailey might be wandering her apartment. He’d probably stay in his apartment, and with that decision, he moved out of his bedroom. He passed through the door and immediately heard the television in the living room to indicate that Riley was likely still awake. He also heard a second voice, which meant that Chris was also still up.

Peter frowned as he entered the living room and saw Riley on the couch as Chris stood over him, the older teenager’s shoulders hunched defensively. _’What-?’_

“You’re lucky your sister went and got herself killed, or you’d be out on your ass,” the adult sneered, freezing Peter in place as his mouth dropped open. “But come Monday you’re going to make your excuses to May and get your filthy faggot ass back to your apartment.”

He didn’t know what to say or do, having never heard Chris speak like that. Peter didn’t like the man, had never liked him, but had only seen him be dismissive and a bit pushy at times. And not as he was now, face almost unrecognizable as it twisted in hatred and cruelty. So, Peter was in utter shock.

Peter turned his gaze on Riley, expecting him to be at the very least glaring at the man, since he wasn’t the type to take something like this lying down. At least, he thought so from the time he had been living with them. However, when he looked into Riley’s face, it was to see his face was pale, tired and defeated. The grief that had pulled him down like a gravity was in every line of his body and face, so much so, that he appeared almost older than the sixteen years he had.

Chris suddenly reached down and grabbed the other by the collar of his shirt. “Answer me, faggot,” he snapped, shaking him violently that Riley’s head snapped back.

Peter got angry as the light around him changed to red without realizing, outraged that Chris would dare treat his friend in this way, when he had just finished burying his sister in the ground a few hours ago. _‘Get off him!’_ he screamed even if he knew they couldn’t hear him, lunging toward the other. His hands connected with something solid instead of passing through, and he concentrated with everything he had and **shoved** as hard as he could.

Chris yelped as he felt the force of the shove and staggered to the side as he released Riley, tripping over the coffee table and tumbling to the floor with a pained grunt. Riley stared down at Chris in confusion and surprise, a bit dazed from having been shaken so violently. Then Chris was sitting up in the next instant. “What the fuck?!” the man spat, so angry that a bit of spittle flew from his mouth. There was a rapidly forming bruise on his forehead where he’d hit the ground and a scrape on his cheek from having likely caught it on the edge of the coffee table. “You’re gonna pay for that, you fag!”

He stood menacingly and Peter scrambled between them, trying to protect Riley. However, he had exhausted himself by then, having used considerable force and will to manifest enough to physically touch the man. So, Chris passed through him with ease as he launched himself at the older teenager. As he did, Peter felt his legs give way underneath him as he was assaulted by the man’s memories; more vivid than they had ever been. It was like when he had passed through Reginald, but much much worse.  
  
  
 _‘I got him, Chris. We’re sharing a room anyways. I’ll get him into bed.’_

_‘Oh, I bet you will,’ Chris sneered._

_Riley flinched like he’d been struck at the man’s tone. ‘W-what? What’s that supposed to mean?’_

_The man chuckled but it wasn’t a nice sound; it was cruel and Peter wanted to cringe away from the man but as he relived the moment, Peter was **him**. He wondered if Chris’s face looked like how he’d seen it moments before, twisted up and with such an ugly expression._

_‘I’ve seen how you look at Peter. It makes me sick, your kind,’ he spat._

_Riley’s lips pulled back to reveal his teeth in an expression of anger, arms tightened once more around an unconscious Peter in his lap. ‘What the fuck do you mean by ‘my kind’?’ he demanded._

_Peter could feel what Chris was feeling at that moment, and the strong urge to spit on the teenager._

_‘A **faggot** ,’ he spat. _

_‘Fuck you, you homophobic asshole,’ Riley snarled._

_‘You and your sister will leave, tomorrow,’ he told him. ‘It makes me feel filthy every time I come over and find you here.’ He turned to leave but paused, glancing back. ‘Don’t bother telling May or Peter, they won’t believe you,’ he taunted with a smirk. He opened the door, pausing a moment more. ‘Change his shirt,’ Chris snapped, sounding disgusted. ‘It’s got vomit on it.’_

_The sound of a door slamming ended that memory. It was suddenly morning and Peter knew it was that same morning he and May had left for the Parade. “We’re leaving babe. We’ll be back later,” May’s voice was in his ear. He heard Chris grunt and then the door closed, waiting a moment before he quickly got off the couch. Peter was confused as he went inside of his room, wondering what he was doing at his nebulizer machine, wondering if he was checking it like before. He opened the bag he kept the machine and it's parts, and he took out the medicine cup and setting it to the side._

_Chris pulled something out of his pocket, a small bottle with a small brush on the bottom of the cap. He unscrewed it and started to cover the bottom of the medicine cup with whatever was in the bottle. Peter was confused, wondering what was in the bottle. He’d never seen him do this before, so didn’t know what he was doing now when there was no one there._

_He capped it quickly and shoved it in his pants pocket, turning to leave when he’d put the medicine cap back inside the bag and then zipped it up and put it back where Peter had left it. The man froze when he saw someone in the open doorway, it was Hailey._

_‘_ _What are you doing?’ she asked suspiciously, eyes flicking to the bag where she knew Peter kept his nebulizer. He saw realization in her face moments before Chris lunged at her.  
  
  
_ Peter screamed as he rolled off the bed, having been flung back into his body, and grabbed fistfuls of his hair as he pulled as if to rip the memory out. He’d seen it, the man’s hands around Hailey’s vulnerable throat, the life leaving her eyes and then dumping the body inside her apartment. And it had been like he was doing it, seeing it through Chris’s eyes.

His bedroom door slammed open and he heard Riley’s voice, the older boy kneeling down next to him. “Pete?” He sat up with his help, looking up into Riley’s face, and even without his glasses he could see the rapidly forming bruise on his cheek where Chris had no doubt struck him.

He didn’t know where his glasses were now, and the world around him had the same blurriness like when he was astral-projecting. It was almost surreal, but his mind cleared of these thoughts as he saw someone else in the doorway, Chris.

Peter glared up at the man past his tears, his head pounding and his lungs burning. “You... you did it,” he accused. “You killed her.”-

\- ~ - ~ - ~ - ~


	8. Clothed In Virtue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> May meets a nice man, and they start dating...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what had happened was...
> 
> I’m  
> So  
> So  
> So  
> Sorry! 🤧
> 
> ~~Please, dear God, let the next chapter be the end. I don’t care if it’s two chapters long, I am done lol~~
> 
> **Warning:** _Major violence on minor(s). If you’re triggered, turn back now._

**Till I Touch The Sky  
Chapter Eight:** _Clothed In Virtue_

\- ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

_”Baby  
You've been threading through my mind  
Wanna wrap you up in tight  
Crazy  
I'ma spin you to your line  
Throw you up and make you mine_

_Wanna tangle up in you  
Don't be tempted to escape  
Wishing it was just us two  
'Cause she'll make you feel out of place_

_Wanna tangle up in you  
Don't be tempted to escape  
Wishing it was just us two  
Just us two...”_

~Evil Spider - BENEE

\- ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

_February 10, 2014, Monday_

Chris grumbled murderously as he packed his things with angry movements, trying and failing not to take this rejection personal. He knew that he had good ideas, and that if he was given a chance, he could be an asset. The... woman had said that at the moment the company wasn’t delving into medical technology, but that’s why he wanted to be the first! His company was still small but with Stark Industries’s backing and money, it could be so much more!

Unfortunately, the Potts woman had rejected his proposal. What he thought could revolutionize the medical equipment field, she had called unimaginative. _‘Unfortunately, there are others with the same ideas, but better. Even then, SI doesn’t have a department of medical equipment, nor does it plan to anytime soon’._

Then he’d been dismissed like an unruly child as Potts had left, stating that she had other matters to attend. It rankled Chris that the woman was the one he’d had to meet with, since he’d been hoping that it was Tony Stark he’d be dealing with. Unfortunately, the man didn’t seem to have time for him and he’d sent his ‘secretary’, since he refused to think of that woman as CEO. She clearly didn’t know what she was talking about, nor did she know anything about how much money there was to be made from medical equipment.

He parked quickly in a space of the parking lot of the hospital, having an appointment there to set up an order of his medical equipment that would make his little company really take off. It was an alternative way to save his company in case things didn’t go well with Stark Industries, which is the reason he had set this up on the same day, with a three hour difference between them. They’d made him wait longer than he would have wished, and now he was running to make sure he wasn’t late. It’s a good thing he had found a parking space close enough that he wouldn’t have to actually run.

As he came around his car to head up to the hospital, he heard someone yelp before they slammed into him and it was his turn to cry out as he felt hot liquid splash all over his front. “Fuck!” he cursed, dropping his briefcase and pulling the wet material away from his skin, and it was lucky that he had a undershirt underneath that gave him a bit of protection from what appeared to be hot coffee.

“I am so sorry!” a high voice gasped; a woman. Chris was still so angry with that Potts woman that he opened his mouth to snap at this other clumsy woman, lifting his head as he did, but froze. The woman had slightly wavy auburn hair that fell past her shoulders, dark brown eyes, a straight nose that fit well with her pretty face and pink small lips. Well, he guessed she wasn’t too bad to look at, for being a foolishly clumsy woman.

She was wearing scrubs, so she was either a nurse of a doctor even if he doubted the latter. The woman was pretty but didn’t appear smart enough to be an actual doctor. The name tag read May, which was a nice enough name.

“No, it’s fine,” he said, unbuttoning his shirt and pulling it off and was conscious of the woman’s eyes on him as he did so. Well, at least she found him attractive, and of course she did. He had dirty blonde hair and light brown eyes they sometimes looked a bit gray, and while he had stubble, it was well trimmed and he made sure he kept up the rest of his appearance. “I hope I have an extra shirt in my car.”

She followed him back to his car and he didn’t have to hide a smirk, since he was in front of her. “If you don’t, I have an extra shirt in the car. It was my husband’s so it should fit you.”

He paid extra attention to that. “Was? Are you not together anymore?” Chris asked, feigning a caring voice. He really couldn’t care less if she was married, since he’d seduced plenty of women away from their husbands. Chris didn’t want to marry them or anything, but it was hilarious see them destroy their own lives to try and be with him, only for him to dump afterwards. He could do it again if need be, since she was more than pretty enough that she’d be worth the effort.

“Uh, no... he passed away last year actually,” she said in a soft voice.

He turned, knowing he had to not appear too uncaring. Chris found her really attractive despite her clumsiness and wanted her, and what he wanted he always got. “Oh, I’m so sorry for your loss. It must be hard,” he said, reaching out to place a hand on her shoulder. He needed to appear caring and not like a creep, even if at times it was fun being one. It was what the situation called for, since some women were more keen on creeps and he always had fun with those types. However, May appeared to need someone caring, so that’s what he would give her.

By the end of the day he had May Parker’s number and a successful business meeting. It seemed things were looking up for him.

\- ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

_April 12, 2014, Saturday, 2:34pm_

Chris was angry. He’d thought she was the perfect woman and he would be able to manipulate her into perhaps becoming the perfect wife for him. He usually didn’t even think of marriage because women were so annoying to have around, but he hadn’t gotten tired of her yet. Besides her horrible cooking skills, she was almost perfect, or at least, as perfect as a woman could get. It didn’t matter if she was a bit too old to have children anymore, he could just impregnate some other stupid woman and manipulate her into giving the kid up. It’d be easy to convince May that he was just taking in a child needing a good home. Chris needed an heir after all, but he wasn’t foolish to think it had anything to do with love. Love wasn’t real.

Now, all his plans had fallen through due to one person; Peter Parker, May’s nephew. He was a nuisance that he needed to get rid of, but he wasn’t really sure how. The kid was uselessly sick all the time with bad asthma, so he couldn’t really manipulate the situation to make him seem like a delinquent kid. He was nauseatingly good all the time, having met him as he had carried an old hag’s groceries that lived on the same floor as them. Even if he was red faced by the time he had left her bags on her kitchen counter, he’d never complained and then come to meet him with a cautious, yet naive expression.

He hated altruistic little bastards like him, convinced that they were just pretending. Even as Chris had smiled and shaken his hand as May had introduced them, he was planning ways on how to get him out of the picture. He just wasn’t sure what to do, but he’d think of something.

Sure he’d have to wait several months before he did anything, but he was patient when he needed to be. Chris would have to be to in order to endure the thirteen-year-old. Besides, he was smart, probably not smarter than him, but either way, he’d never been good at having competition. Especially not some snot-nosed brat.

\- ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

_October 22, 2014, Wednesday, 1:04pm_

When Peter’s nebulizer machine broke and they needed a new one, Chris finally knew how he would get rid of the annoying teenager. He’d smiled at May and presented her with a brand new machine, the medicine cup already laced with the smallest amount of mercury. He couldn’t do this too often or risk exposing himself, and the smallest amounts wouldn’t affect him right away.

The process would take several months and hopefully the cause of him getting sick wouldn’t be noticeable right away. Chris would notice, since he’d be watching the brat deteriorate. And if he enjoyed it, well, no one would ever know. He’d be the perfect supportive boyfriend to May, help her when she needed it and thus she’d never suspect he was the reason Peter was getting sicker and sicker.

It was the perfect plan.

\- ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

_April 02, 2015, Monday_

Chris tried not to look too gleeful when May called him in a panic to tell him that Peter had fallen and hit his head and was in the hospital. Since the boy was a bit clumsy and with a weak constitution, she attributed it to an accident. He knew it was the slow poisoning starting to take it’s toll, affecting his motor skills and slowing his reflexes.

He’d offer to stay with May after Peter got out of the hospital, and when neither were paying attention, he’d add a bit more mercury to the medicine cup. After all, May trusted him now with the maintenance of the machine and it’d be so very easy. He’d smile in her face while he slowly poisoned the kid.

Soon, he’d have her all to himself.

\- ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

_May 15, 2015, Friday_

Chris punched the steering wheel as hard as he could when he finally slid into his car, hand throbbing in pain from having punched the steering week just now, and the wall on his way out of the building. He was so angry he didn’t know what to do with himself.

That bastard, who hadn’t even given Chris the time of day, had not only interacted with Peter, but given him his business card. There were few people that had caught the man’s attention to actually get his one of a kind business cards, which were supposedly made of a thin light-weight type of titanium called Starkanium. And he’d given one of these sought after cards to Peter fucking Parker. He’d tried to grab it from him, to at least hold it and especially to get the number on it. However, the brat had snatched it back and shoved it in his pocket.

The little bastard.

Chris refused to believe he was smarter than him, had made something that had caught Tony Stark’s attention, while he’d sent Pepper Potts to meet him during their meeting. It boiled his blood to think they considered that stupid kid smarter than _him_.

Now he was more determined than ever to get rid of Peter Parker.

\- ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

_June 20, 2015, Saturday_

He hadn’t expected May to invite the Jones’s twins to stay with her and Peter. This would put a stop to his plans, since now someone was always at the apartment. He’d have to halt his tampering with the machine.

It rankled him to have them there, and worst of all was the boy. He was a damned faggot, could see it every time he looked at Peter. It was hard not to sneer at the boy in disgust every time he came over. He didn’t know how much longer he could keep pretending.

The only good thing was being able to watch video of the girl changing and showering from the cameras he’d discreetly installed all over the house. If he felt he could get away with it, he’d have already done something. Well, maybe when he got rid of Peter, she could be the one he got to have his baby. It’d be so much better if he managed to convince her and she was a virgin.

Virgins were so much fun to break in.

\- ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

_June 28, 2015, Sunday, 8:07AM_

Chris waited until he was sure May and Peter were gone, knowing Riley and Hailey were gone. He’d spent the night on the couch, hearing the siblings leaving even before May had gotten back from work. The man was glad the faggot had taken his words seriously, since he didn’t know how much longer he could stand being around the other. Now they were gone and he could get back to his plan.

He stood and left the couch, glad that this would be the last night he’d spend sleeping there. Chris passed the open doorway of May’s bedroom, barely glancing inside as hurried toward Peter’s room. He hoped this stupid boy would finally succumb to the poisoning, knowing that his time in the hospital and having those nuisances here had been enough time for Peter to recover the damage he’d started to already develop. Who knew that fucking fiber would work to cleanse him of the poison, since the girl was always making sure Peter ate. She was a fair hand at making food, and she’d apparently been taught by her mother how to make all kinds of high-fiber foods. It was a good thing that would all end.

May was a shit cook and usually they ended up eating greasy food that did nothing for the boy’s health. Especially when Chris went back to adding mercury to his breathing machine.

He capped the bottle of mercury quickly and shoved it in his pants pocket, turning to leave when he’d put the medicine cup back in the bag, and the bag in its place. The man froze when he saw someone in the open doorway, it was Hailey. Chris had thought she had left, had heard her and Riley leaving. So, why was she here? Had she seen him?

“What are you doing?’ she asked suspiciously, eyes flicking to the nebulizer machine. He saw realization in her face and he reacted, thinking it was a shame he now had to kill her.

They hit the floor right outside of May’s bedroom as Hailey yelped in pain, but he was cutting off her cries a moment later as his hands wrapped around her throat. She was smaller than him and it was easy to hold her down even as she kicked and hit at him, making sure to lift his face away so she didn’t scratch his face. He felt her nails scratch his arms and knew he’d have to clean under her fingernails before he got rid of the body.

He filed that away for later and instead concentrated on her face, wanting to watch the life leave her eyes.

Chris considered himself lucky that the father found her, the neighbors confusing his screams of grief. He watched from around the corner as he was led away in handcuffs, screaming that he hadn’t done this. Chris smirked and turned to take the stairs.

\- ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

_July 31, 2015, Friday, 8:32pm_

Peter glared up at the man past his tears, his head pounding and his lungs burning. “You... you did it,” he accused. “You killed her.”

Chris looked down at the wild-eyed Peter, Riley kneeling around his side as he stared at Peter in shock and confusion. The man’s hand twitched at his side, the same hands that had choked the life out of Hailey almost a month ago, and who had put on a sad face as he had accompanied May, Peter and Riley to the funeral.

“What are you talking about?” he asked in a low, dangerous voice. He hadn’t taken the cameras out, since people were more vigilant now and anyone might notice if he came to get them out after the girl’s death. Chris had no reason to be there, so he’d have to wait. Had Peter found the feed? He was smart enough to do it.

When Peter cringed away he took that as confirmation, and knew he couldn’t let them live. He’d have to kill them now, and then he’d escape. Or perhaps play it all to his advantage again. He could toss the faggot out the window, make it seem like he killed himself, and Peter... well, that’d be a bit more complicated.

Peter looked up with wide eyes at the man, realizing he’d spoken out loud, about something he shouldn’t know. He had just been so traumatized by having witnessed it through Chris’s eyes that he hadn’t been able to keep the truth to himself. And even if he should shut up, he couldn’t do it. “You killed Hailey,” he gasped, almost whimpered.

Riley sucked in a sharp breath, turning a horrified look at Chris. The man’s hands clenched into fists, his large frame taking up almost the whole doorframe. Peter hadn’t realized until that moment how big and tall he was, how intimidating. The surprise faded from the man’s face to be replaced with a frightening coldness.

“Yes,” he said in that same calm voice that made both Peter and Riley flinch. “I did.” He stepped further into the room, Peter hearing the crunch of something under his boot and he’d broken enough glasses over the years to know that sound. The two teenager scrambled away from the man, but there was no where to go. “It was so very easy... such a soft, slender neck.” His head tilted in a parody of curiousity. “But how do you know that? You weren’t here.”

Chris was suddenly moving, faster than he had ever moved before as he threw Riley aside with one hand and with the other grabbed Peter by the hair. Peter yelped in pain as he was dragged up until he was nose to nose with Chris, the man having to bend his head down since he was much taller than the teenager. His other hand grabbed Peter’s chin, fingers biting viciously into his face.

“How do you know? You can tell me, _bud,_ ” the nickname he had used before now said in a derisive tone. “Did you find the video-feed, huh? _Tell me_!” he snarled, hand tightening around his chin that Peter was sure he was going to break his jaw.

“Fuck you... you homophobic asshole,” Peter managed to get out, remembering that Riley had called him that. Chris’s eyes widened a moment before they narrowed dangerously. He was suddenly on his back on the bed with Chris over him, his hands around Peter’s throat in much the same way he’d done to poor Hailey.

“You’re a useless... waste.... of space,” he snarled, fingers squeezing the breath out of his already inflamed airway. “I’ve waiting for this moment!”

Peter clawed at the man’s hands, bucking underneath him to dislodge him, but he was too heavy. He could already feel his eyesight darkening, threatening to drag him away and make him a permanent resident of that terrible limbo he often visited.

He heard someone yell and then Chris was suddenly gone, as Peter coughed harshly and sucked in greedy gulps of air, hand up against his tender throat. Peter managed to sit up with some difficulty, lifting his eyes and saw Riley standing in front of him, the laptop that he’d built by dumpster diving in his hand, and when he saw Chris on the floor with a bloody nose, Peter realized he’d hit him in the face with it.

The man bared his teeth in a snarl, his mouth full of blood, and kicked out. Riley cried out in pain as he crumpled as Chris hit him in the knee, hearing something crunch with how hard he’d hit him. The laptop flew out of his hand and hit the wall as it shattered due to it’s poor craftsmanship. When Chris stood over the fallen Riley, Peter threw himself forward in a desperate move, trying to hit him in the face, and he wasn’t above biting and scratching.

“Fuck!” Chris screamed, trying to pull him away when he’d clamped his teeth on his arm. “You little shit!” He punched him in the face with his other hand and Peter gave a sharp cry of pain as he crumpled down on the floor, almost landing on Riley. The taller teen yanked Peter back when Chris tried to kick him, green eyes wild and terrified.

Riley scrambled away as he tried to push the younger boy behind him, not able to move his leg properly and prayed that help came, that someone, anyone would hear the commotion and help them.

“I’m gonna enjoy this,” Chris said, reaching for them as both cried out in alarm.

Chris stopped suddenly, screaming as he reached behind him with sudden, jerky movements. Riley and Peter looked behind him, realizing there was someone else in the room behind Chris. The man staggered to the side and they were startled to see May with a blood covered knife in her shaking hands. As the bastard turned, she jerked the knife forward again but he moved to the side to avoid the knife, growling as he smacked her hard. She fell against Peter’s desk with a cry of pain, knocking it and anything still on it onto the floor.

There was shouting from the hallway and the man looked at Peter, who trembled at the pure unadulterated hatred he saw in that gaze, and then the man rushed out of the room. The door slammed open, followed by screams. “Stop him!” Peter heard someone scream, but he turned his attention to May.

He scrambled over to her, tears and blood on his face as Riley moaned in pain behind him. “May?! May, are you okay?” Peter cried.

The woman looked dazed before her vision cleared and gasped, reaching out to him. If it had been anyone else, Peter would have flinched but this was May and he knew she’d never hurt him. “Oh, Peter... oh baby,” she sobbed, hissing in anger when she saw the rapidly forming bruises on his throat. “That... that bastard,” she snarled.

“May... Riley’s leg,” Peter coughed, wincing at even her light touches. He felt the beginning of an asthma attack and groped underneath his bed for his bag. He’d seen it just before going to bed, halfway under his twin bed, and when he found it, he pulled out his inhaler. He shook it a few times after removing the cap and then brought it to his mouth, feeling instant relief when he brought it to his mouth and pressed the button.

May went into nurse mode to likely keep some semblance of calm. Even so, her hands still shook as she cut away Riley’s pant leg with Peter’s wire cutters to look at his knee. “It’s not broken but possibly fractured,” she told Riley as the boy hissed as she strapped his leg into a make-shift splint, the knee slightly bent. “You’ll have to get an x-ray to make sure.”

As she was finishing the splint, there came the sound of the door being slammed open. “NYPD!”

“In here!” May called. “We need help!”

A blonde man in riot gear entered with his weapon drawn, but it was lowered as he looked around the room.

“My... ex-boyfriend,” she spat, “attacked my nephew Peter and his friend, Riley. I’m a trained nurse. Riley has a possibly fractured knee and Peter most likely has a bruised trachea.”

The police officer looked at her face, noticing the blood running from a cut and rapidly forming bruise on her mouth. “Where’s the assailant?”

“He escaped,” she said, wiping at her bloody mouth with the back of her hand. “I stabbed him in his lower back when I saw him attacking them.”

“Right.“ He grabbed the radio and pressed the button. “Dispatch, This is Alpha 1, the suspect has fled the scene. I need two RA units for two victims, both minors. One with a possible fractured knee and another with a bruised trachea.”

“Roger, Alpha 1, RA units on the way. ETA ten minutes.”

“Roger that, Dispatch.”

He turned to look at May. “I need a description of the suspect, or a possible photo if you have one.” May nodded and hurried off after pressing a hand to both Peter and Riley’s shoulders. She returned a moment later with a picture ripped in two. Peter knew the picture, which was of the three of them and knew that she’d likely ripped herself and Peter off the picture.

“Thank you, ma’am,” he said, turning away as he spoke into the radio again as he described the suspect.

As they were loading Riley into the ambulance almost twenty minutes later, Peter able to walk under his own power, he heard his name being called. “Peter!”

Peter glanced to the street and was surprised to see Tony Stark as he went under the police tape, an officer trying to stop him as he tried to barrel right past the man. “That’s my kid!” Mr. Stark snapped. The officer glanced over at the boy, who nodded even as he stared at the man in disbelief. When the cop stepped out of his path, Tony hurried over. “Jesus, kid,” he said as he reached him. Peter was holding an ice pack to his throat, but that didn’t hide the horrible finger shaped bruises.

“I’m okay,” he croaked, seeing the distress on the man’s face as he grabbed his left wrist tightly with his right hand. He had seen him always do that whenever he got very agitated; like when Peter had an accident in the lab or when he’d had an asthma attack and he’d left his inhaler in his bag in the living room. He’d never seen the man run so fast before, and he had fretted over Peter as he had grabbed his left wrist.

Peter worried that he might have a heart attack one day, since he knew he had a weak heart after having needed open heart surgery when shrapnel had pierced his heart while in Afghanistan. That the open heart surgery had been performed in a dirty cave had only worsened the man’s condition. He’d survived though, but the damage was still there, especially since he’d undergone another surgery after he’d been rescued, to remove a few more pieces of shrapnel that had been missed.

“Okay-?!” Mr. Stark exclaimed, face red with anger. Peter knew he wasn’t angry at him though. “You have bruises! On your neck and face!” He ran a hand through his hair, making it stick out in all directly. “Where... where’s that asshole?!”

“He got away. ” May had been talking with one of the police officers and now came upon them. “Mr. Stark, they have to get Peter to the hospital,” she said not unkindly. The bruise around her mouth was just as bad as Peter’s own face.

The man looked even more dismayed, if that were possible, when he saw May’s face and the damage done. He turned away, taking deep breaths to calm himself. When he’d managed some semblance of control, he turned back to look at May. “Mrs. Parker, please come back to the tower. The medical bay really offers the best medical care Peter can get. Dr. Cho is an amazing doctor.”

May gave him a deadpan look. “She a geneticist, Mr. Stark,” she stated, raising an unimpressed eyebrow.

“Please, call me Tony,” he told her. “And she’s also has basic medical training. I also have regular doctors on call if they’re needed. Hell, I have Dr. Stephan Strange on speed-dial.” He reached out and took her hand carefully. “Please, Mrs. Parker. I need...” he paused and glanced at Peter, noticing that he didn’t have his glasses on. He somehow looked younger without them on, and there was a pained look on his face as he looked at the bruises on Peter’s throat again. “I need him... need the both of you safe. If he’s still out there, you’ll both be safe in my home.”

The woman also looked at her nephew, and a look Peter hadn’t seen since Ben had died flashed across her face. He wondered what was going through his aunt’s mind in that moment. “Call me May,” he told Tony, looking back at him. “Do you have a car?”

“Yes, and I even have a fully loaded first aid kit in there,” he reassured her. “Pepper insisted on it after everything that’s happened.” He didn’t mention what those things were, but both Parkers were pretty sure they knew what they were.

May nodded and Tony sighed in relief. He quickly led them past the police tape and to a waiting black Audi, sliding into the backseat with them. “I have to call Megan,” May said, pulling out her phone. Megan Jones was Riley’s mother, and as they rode to the tower, she quickly exclaimed that Riley was on his way to the hospital. She also had to tell her that it had been Christopher that had attacked Riley and Peter, apologizing profusely for not having known the man’s true nature.

Peter suddenly remembered what the bastard had asked him. _‘Did you find the video-feed, huh?’_ Had the man installed a camera in their apartment without them knowing? Had that camera caught the murder?

“Mr. Stark,” he whispered, since it hurt to talk too loudly. It also hurt when he swallowed. “There’s a video-feed coming from our apartment.” It had been almost a month since the murder, but hopefully the camera’s internal hard drive was large enough to have captured it and the attack. He wouldn’t be able to explain how he knew about the murder, not without sounding like a crazy person, but he couldn’t stay quiet about it if it meant they’d have proof that Chris was the one that had killed Hailey.-

\- ~ - ~ - ~ - ~


	9. An Awfully Big Adventure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The conclusion...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was going to be super duper long, so I had to cut it. Even then, it’s still over 10,000 words. So, it’s the longest chapter in this story, I think. I still have one more part to this story, but I’m gonna post it as a one shot, maybe. We’ll see. I can’t believe this is finally finished. It took a lot out of me, and I suffered some writer’s block, so I’m really proud of this story. Let me know what you think of the ending.

**Till I Touch The Sky  
Chapter Nine:** _An Awfully Big Adventure_

\- ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

_”Remember not to get too close to stars  
They're never gonna give you love like ours_

_Where did you go?  
I should know, but it's cold  
And I don't wanna be lonely  
So show me the way home  
I can't lose another life..._

_The world's a little blurry  
Or maybe it's my eyes  
The friends I've had to bury  
They keep me up at night  
Said I couldn't love someone  
'Cause I might break  
If you're gonna die, not by mistake..._

_I just wanted to protect you  
But now I'll never get to...” _

~ilomilo - Billie Eilish

\- ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

_August 8, 2015, Saturday, 10:25am_

Peter was really nervous. While normally he’d be nervous because Riley was going to come over and they wouldn’t have any adult supervision, but that wasn’t the case this time around. He thought that the other was going to ask him how he’d known that Chris had killed Hailey. When the police had asked him, he’d told them that he had found the video-feed. They couldn’t check if it was true, since the laptop (which was a piece of shit he’d built from used parts while dumpster diving) had been destroyed in the struggle.

So, they’d given him the benefit of the doubt and checked the apartment. They’d found the video-feed and the cameras as well, and it had footage up to week after the murder before it’d run out of storage. Now there was no more doubt. Christopher had killed Hailey Jones.

The only problem was Riley, who had to know that Peter had been asleep. So, now Riley was going to come over, and Peter didn’t know what he was going to say to him. Should he tell him the truth, or stick to the story he’d given the cops and Mr. Stark? And another thing, he’d _lied_ to May, and Mr. Stark! If they ever found out, they’d be so disappointed in Peter!

The ding of the elevator had him sitting up where he’d been slouching on the couch, his heart starting to speed up with his anxiety. He listened for the other and heard a dual thump of his crutches on the floor. Riley came into view a few moments later, supporting himself with two crutches, with his knee was in a brace because it had gotten fractured. He’d told Peter the doctor had said to keep off that leg, hence the crutches.

Once more he wondered what he was going to say to him as the other moved over to where Peter was fidgeting on the couch. If he told him the truth, would Riley believe him? And what’s more, would he have to confess all the times he’d invaded his and Hailey’s privacy? Peter might have thought they were dreams, but what about afterwards when he’d snuck a peek at his phone and listened to conversations that he wasn’t privy to? He’d have to tell him that he was no better than Chris when he’d put up those cameras to spy on them in their own home.

Riley dropped his bag on the seat before he plopped down on the couch beside him, leaning toward Peter as he set his crutches aside. He smelled good, most likely having showered before coming here and the younger boy nervously pulled at a loose string on his pants where they’d ripped at the knee. Riley gave a tired sigh that didn’t feel right coming from someone that was only sixteen years old.

He’d had a birthday on the 20th of last month, but Riley hadn’t wanted to celebrate it. Now, Peter’s own birthday was in two days and he understood him so well now, and wondered why he hadn’t at the time. Peter didn’t want to celebrate his birthday either.

“Hey,” Riley murmured as he graced him with a small smile that sent his heart aflutter with giddy nerves. His shoulder pressed against Peter’s own shoulder. The feel of his warm, solid body was comforting to Peter.

“Hi,” he whispered, since his throat was still raw and caused him pain if he spoke for too long. Dr. Cho had said that it’d be tender for a while yet, and he was only allowed liquids and soft foods for right now. Which was a bummer, since he wanted some Cool Ranch Nachos, badly. The bruises were still there but in another two weeks they’d likely have faded away.

Peter hesitantly reached out to brush his fingers along the brace. “How are you?” he rasped, voice wavering.

Riley’s larger hand caught his and Peter’s heart felt like it was at his throat, especially as he interlaced their fingers. “Just a bit sore,” he reassured. His eyes lingered on Peter’s throat, green eyes dark with an emotion Peter couldn’t identify. “And you... how’s..?”

“Fine,” he sighed hoarsely, even if he felt far from it. He didn’t want Riley to worry about him, didn’t think he deserved it.

“I have something for you.” He pulled his hand away to Peter’s disappointment, and unzipped his backpack and pulled something out. “Good, it didn’t get smooshed.” Riley turned back and held out a clear plastic disposable container that had a chocolate cupcake with white frosting and multicolor sprinkles on it. He put it on his hand, and then grabbed a single candle and pushed it into the soft cupcake.

Peter was surprised as he stared at the small confectionary, watching as Riley lit the single candle with a lighter he’d gotten from somewhere. “May said you didn’t want to celebrate your birthday because of everything that happened.” He paused a moment to turn away to hastily wipe his eyes, knowing the thought of his sister still brought him to tears and likely would for a long time. “And then last month... I was cruel to you.”

Peter shook his head quickly. “Nonono, it’s alright, Riley,” he squeaked, wincing a moment later as his throat hurt.

He’d been trying to cheer up Riley for his birthday, and honestly, he hadn’t even thought of how this would be the first birthday he’d spend without Hailey. Peter had bought him a small cupcake almost identical to the one Riley was giving Peter now, single candle and all. He’d smiled wanly, feeling tired and lethargic from the days spent being unable to sleep too well. He attributed this as the reason of not thinking his plan through.

“Happy birthday, make a wish,” he said as he held out the cupcake with the candle lit.

Riley had stared at it for several moments in silence, that Peter shifted awkwardly. Then he’d reached out and taken it from him, green eyes filled with so much grief that Peter felt like he’d committed a grave sin by doing this, even if he’d only wanted to make him smile.

“I wish...” he choked, hand starting to crush the soft pastry. “I wish my sister wasn’t dead.” Then he dropped the ruined cupcake on the floor and looked into Peter’s wide brown eyes. “Do you think my wish will come true?”

He’d turned and walked off, Peter dropping to his knees, wiping at the tears running down his face as he cleaned up the mess with shaking hands. Peter didn’t want Mr. Stark to come in and see this mess.

Peter hadn’t seen Riley the rest of the day, not even the next morning. He did, however, find a plate of waffles in the microwave wrapped in Saran-wrap and his name on a sticky note tapped to the microwave door so he knew to look there.

He’d taken it as the only kind of apology the older boy could give him at the time.

Now, Riley squeezed his hand gently as he no doubt remembered the memory as well. “No, it’s not alright, Pete,” he said firmly. “I... I made you cry, and that’s not okay. I’m so sorry.”

Peter nodded, to show he accepted his apology as he gnawed on his bottom lip, conflicted about a lot of things. This was a nice gesture, especially after Riley, in his grief, had mistreated Peter who he’d been trying to make him feel a bit better. And he wanted to be happy, he _was_ happy, but wondered how he could allow himself to be happy when Hailey was gone.

He lifted his head to say something, wishing his voice didn’t sound so wrecked, and his breath caught in his throat as he found Riley too close to him. The taller boy kept leaning into his personal space until he was pressing his mouth to his cheek, at the corner of his mouth. Peter had a feeling of deja vu, and realized he hadn’t imagined that kiss when he’d been in the ICU.

“Happy birthday, Pete,” Riley murmured, looking into his face as brown and green eyes met.

Peter swallowed even if it was painful. “I-it’s Monday,” he croaked, not really knowing what else to say. He was half-terrified, half-excited the other would lean the last few inches and give him a real kiss.

A slight smirk lifted Riley’s lips. “Well, I’m waiting until you’re at least fifteen before I kiss you for real... you’re still fourteen, after all.”

Peter squeaked in embarrassment and didn’t even care that his throat hurt because Riley laughed. It was the first time he’d laughed since Hailey had died.

\- ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

_August 10, 2015, Monday, 1:14pm_

Even if he hadn’t wanted to celebrate his birthday, Mr. Stark had insisted that they had to, because as he said ‘it’s not every day you turn fifteen’. He hadn’t protested too much, feeling still a bit lethargic and his throat was still tender. So, he couldn’t talk much, only smile as people came over to congratulate him.

Ned was there, since he was his only friend and so was Riley even if he mostly kept to himself. Peter tried not to look at him too eagerly, remembering his words from two days ago. The other had glanced at Peter and given him that smirk to show he remembered as well, but thus far he hadn’t approached him besides to hand him a small box wrapped in festive paper.

Since he didn’t have many friends, Mr. Stark had invited a few people he knew, including the SWAT team that had shown up at the apartment the day of the attack. The big blonde man that had first came in, whose name was Steve, and another long haired man whose had introduced himself as Bucky. There was an even bigger man with long blonde hair that had insisted Peter call him Thor. They were like insanely good-looking and Peter was glad he couldn’t speak, or he’d have made a fool of himself. He’d only smiled in thanks when they’d wished him a happy birthday and handed him some money which he’d put on a pin that Mr. Stark had insisted he wear.

Then there was the rest of the team, which included an intimidating blonde haired woman named Natasha, a red haired fairly young woman named Wanda, and then the stoic Vision (yes, that was their actual name), Sam who’d been friendly yet teasing.

There was an Air Force colonel named James Rhodes that had insisted he call him Uncle Rhodey, which was a bit confusing. He’d said that Tony spoke of Peter so often that he felt he already knew Peter, and Peter had flushed in embarrassment even as he beamed happily. He was Mr. Stark’s best friend. “We’re more like brothers, really,” the man had said. Now he kind of understood why he wanted him to call him Uncle and it made his heart warm in his chest.

The best surprise was when he got to meet Dr. Bruce Banner! He’d known that Mr. Stark worked with him on several projects before, but he’d never expected him to be at Peter’s impromptu birthday party. Peter wished he could speak without his voice breaking and hurting, so he could have asked him questions (and he had so many questions).

Without even realizing it, he was having the best time, when before he hadn’t wanted to celebrate his birthday, now he was enraptured as he listened to a Dr. Banner and Mr. Stark (didn’t he also have a PhD??) talk science. He understood a lot of what they were saying, and when he managed to ask a question, which he was immediately chastised for straining his throat, the men paused to think. Mr. Stark actually took his phone out and typed it up. “That’s a good idea, kid. If this pans out, I’ll give you credit.”

Peter beamed past his bashful blush, happy that he’d actually had an idea that Mr. Stark had thought had merit. And Dr. Banner wanted to talk about his medical webbing when his throat was all healed up. So, he was over the moon, obviously.

He was bummed out when May came to drag him away for pictures and cake, but managed to overhear Mr. Stark boast to Dr. Banner. “I told you my kid was smart, Brucie bear,” he said, pride in his voice. Peter’s smile could have lit the entire room after that, wearing it for most of the pictures May took, and Peter hoped they didn’t come out weird looking.

As May started handing out pieces of the fairly large chocolate and strawberry glaze cake, Peter saw Riley wave him over. Peter felt goosebumps raise along his arms, but in a good way. He walked toward him, forcing himself not to rush over too eagerly, but his heart was definitely rushing. And it jump started into a frenzy when Riley motioned for them to go through the doors of the outdoor roof terrace.

There were some nice outdoor durable seats surrounding a low table, and it was under a pergola that had Zéphirine Drouhin Climbing Roses (Miss Potts had told him) wrapping along it that provided shade during the daytime. This had become one of his favorite places to be, since it made him feel a little bit less like a prisoner. There was also several plants, a garden really, and at times Peter took over watering them if he was up late or if a nightmare woke him super early.

Peter started to panic as Riley closed the door behind him, wondering what he was supposed to do. Should he ask if he could sit in the seat meant for two, or would that be too embarrassing? Then he had a horrible thought... what if his breath stunk? Then he started to think of when was the last time he’d brushed his teeth (which was this morning), and then tried to remember what he’d eaten and if it would make his breath not pleasant.

A hand landed on his shoulder, making him jump and looked at Riley who was looking down at him in bemusement. “Calm down, Pete,” he said with a slight upturning of his lips. “You act like you’ve never been kissed before.”

Peter knew his voice would crack if he tried to speak, and his throat was already hurting with all the strain he’d put on it today, so he nodded his head in affirmative instead of answering. Riley was surprised by that. “Seriously? Never?”

When Peter meekly nodded a yes again, Riley sighed loudly and ran a hand through his hair that was starting to get pretty long. “So, it’s likely that you’ll never forget it then, huh?” The younger teen shook his head in a definite no, making Riley groan. “So, no pressure,” he chuckled sardonically.

Peter frowned, moving to step away since he didn’t want Riley to feel pressured to do this. He could just have his first kiss with someone else, even if he _really_ wanted it to be Riley. “No, sorry,” Riley said, catching his bicep. Although, Peter would argue about the name since he had no muscles whatsoever.

Peter’s head titled curiously, hoping he could understand him without words. “I _want_ to kiss you... like, a lot, but I just... I don’t want to ruin it for you.”

Peter felt his face warming even as he shook his head again. “You won’t,” he croaked, hand going to his neck a second later.

Riley sighed and reached out, taking his hand. “I will.” He pulled him along and took him to sit in the chairs underneath the pergola, the roses making the dark wood of the structure really stand out. “Listen, I was planning on doing this another day, but maybe it’s better to tell you now.” He turned away as he looked out over the rooftop terrace, which was also a rooftop garden combined with it. “I don’t want to lead you on.”

The fifteen year old already felt his heart starting to break, thinking he was going to tell him that he was seeing that other boy, Evan. So, did that mean he’d been playing with Peter? Would Riley be so cruel as to do that?

“Pete,” he said quietly, waiting until he was looking at him, “I’m moving.”

Peter blinked nonplussed, the words not registering for a moment, and then they were like a bucket of cold water as he flinched. “What?” he whispered, the devastation clear in his voice.

Riley nodded sadly. “Mom told me yesterday... she doesn’t want to stay here anymore,” he muttered. “She said she doesn’t want to risk that... bastard taking another shot at me.” He tentatively took both his hands, long fingers gripping his smaller ones. “So... maybe it’s better that I don’t ruin your first kiss, knowing I’m leaving.”

He pulled one hand away to wipe at his face, realizing he’d started to cry. “When-?” Peter gasped, unable to day more, and even had to use his inhaler from getting worked up. Riley squeezed the hand he was still holding, waiting until he’d calmed before speaking again.

“Next week,” he murmured, leaning down to look into his face. “She’s already hired the movers to start packing our stuff.” His eyes looked at his hands, Riley having taken the other once more after he’d finished with his inhaler. “I wish I didn’t have to go.”

Peter sniffled and nodded. “Maybe we shouldn’t,” he whispered, not wanting to have the other kiss him and then break his heart when he left.

“Okay, Pete,” he said, pulling him into a hug. Peter held onto Riley tightly, and his heart was breaking either way.

\- ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

_August 18, 2015, Tuesday, 5:30pm_

Riley kissed Peter’s forehead before he got in the cab with his mom, then it pulled away. May wrapped her arms around Peter and both watched as it turned the corner, and then they were gone.

\- ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

_August 30, 2015, Sunday, 12:17pm_

Peter felt like he was drowning, even as he went out onto the rooftop terrace, he felt like the walls were closing in around him. He hadn’t been allowed to leave the tower since the end of July, and he was ready to rip his hair out. The only good thing was that school started in nine days, and _finally_ he would be able to leave.

Sure, Happy would drop him off and pick him up, but he would be able to go outside. At least he’d be able to leave the prison the tower had become. While he knew it was for his safety, it didn’t really help that much in the long run.

\- ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

_September 6, 2015, Sunday, 2:36am_

Peter couldn’t breathe, feeling his throat closing up as his lungs burned, and he scrambled for his inhaler, pulling it out and uncapping it, shaking it a few times before he brought it to his mouth. The pressure on his airway relieved a bit but not by much, and knew that with his injury from being assaulted by Chris and the damage done by his sabotage, he’d have a hard time recovering.

When it didn’t get better, he pressed the button on his watch that Mr. Stark had given him for emergencies. It would alert the man that he was in trouble and it would give him his exact location.

The door slammed open moments later, and Mr. Stark was there. “Peter!” his mentor’s desperate, fear-filled voice was the last thing he heard as he felt everything fade around him.

_7:42am_  
Peter felt awareness return to him, groaning softly as he shifted his tired body and tried to make sense about where he was and what had happened. There was the beeping of a heart monitor and the hissing of a machine that he knew he recognized, but couldn’t place it in that moment.

When he was finally able to open his eyes, he wasn’t too surprised to see that he was in the medical floor of the tower. They should just put a plaque on the bed with his name on it.

He flinched when he realized he had a plastic mask on his face and he ripped it off, not caring as he scratched his face in his haste. Peter tossed it away from him, shaking in the bed as he stared down at it. The memory of Chris sabotaging his nebulizer to kill him flashed in his mind, and then of what had happened to poor Hailey when she came upon him.

_...he could feel Chris’s hands around his throat... ‘You’re a useless waste of space,’ the man snarled, fingers squeezing the life out of him._

Mr. Stark found him on his side a few moments later in the middle of a panic attack, and he talked him down until he’d calmed. Peter refused to go back on oxygen and to restart his nightly treatments, no matter how much May begged. Every time he put it on, he remembered the man’s hands around his throat and he couldn’t handle it.

\- ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

_September 8, 2015, Tuesday, 4:27pm_

“What’s this?” he asked Mr. Stark we he brought him a case. It had Stark Industries on the side of it in shiny letters.

Tony took the case and showed him the panel on the side of it. “This scans your finger print and your retina before it’ll open.” He urged him to do that and when his thumb had been scanned and retina read, the high-tech case popped open. There was a sleek looking nebulizer inside, also with the SI logo on it. “I know you don’t like nebulizers with a mask, so I made this for you,” he told him.

Another scan of his thumb made the machine open to reveal the standard nebulizer equipment, but this one had a mouth piece and not a mask. He smiled at the teenager, who was staring at the machine with awe.

“I-I didn’t know SI made these types of nebulizers,” he said quietly.

Tony shrugged as he turned away in embarrassment. “They didn’t... but I thought... you’d feel safer if it had some protections,” he said.

“You... you did this for me?” Peter asked, his voice wobbling.

“Well, yeah... you’re my kid,” Tony said simply.

Peter practically threw himself at the man then, hugging him as hard as he could, but Tony didn’t complain once.

\- ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

_October 25, 2015, Sunday_

“What?” Peter asked, not believing this. “What do you mean I can’t go?”

It was the weekend before Halloween, and this year it was lucky that Halloween would fall on the weekend. They were having a special haunted house that was going to be set up on the south side of Sheep Meadow in Central Park for three days, which was on the 29th, 30th and the 31st.

Peter and his friends had been planning to go on Friday, since there was sure to be way too many people that last day. He’d gone through his idea to talk more to MJ and it turns out that she was a pretty cool person. She already sat next to them during lunch, so striking up a conversation with her was easier and he liked her sarcastic attitude.

So, now they were a trio, and at times they turned into a six group thing because MJ got along fairly well with Liz and Betty and they’d sometimes sit with them. Then, for some reason Flash would also wander over and sit with them, and it was likely because all of them were part of the Academic Decathlon Team, and they had impromptu mini-meetings during lunch. They’d then review after school with the members that didn’t share lunch with them.

Peter wondered when it gone from just Ned and him, to a group of six friends and teammates. Even Flash had calmed down on his name calling when MJ had told him off, and in turn Liz had told him that she’d have no members of the team bullying other members. Flash sulked for a bit but then he’d come around, especially when with Liz’s help, he’d started to get more questions right instead of wrong.

So, they’d planned on all six of them going on Friday after school to the haunted house in their costumes. However, May and Mr. Stark had just told him that he couldn’t go. Apparently, someone matching Chris’s description had been spotted skulking around the tower, but when security had gone to investigate, he’d been nowhere to be seen. The cameras on the tower were too far to properly make out his face, but Mr. Stark was very sure it was him.

“I can’t live my life fearing he’s going to attack me,” he snapped, angry that this would lead to him being confined once again to the tower like the past summer. While he loved being close to his mentor (that he saw more and more like a father), he didn’t want to just be stuck inside with no hope of leaving. He needed to get out and just try to be a regular teenager. Peter already had his asthma, and now the damage done to his lungs and throat due to Chris. He didn’t want the man to dictate anymore of his life.

“It’s too dangerous,” May said firmly. Peter knew she meant well, but he was angry that he couldn’t go to a haunted house because they had thought they’d seen that asshole Chris, who’d likely left New York anyways. So, he scoffed and walked off, slamming his bedroom door closed.

He was going to go to the haunted house, even if he had to sneak out.

\- ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

_October 30, 2015 Friday, 6:17pm_

He waited until he knew May would be at work and Mr. Stark had a meeting. The man had left Happy watching him, but the man had been called by Pepper for something and told him to stay put. “Where would I go? You have the elevator being monitored,” Peter mumbled. The man didn’t know that he knew the code for the private elevator in Tony’s penthouse though. As soon as he’d left, he would go upstairs and take the private elevator to the garage.

“Alright, twerp, don’t make me regret leaving you alone,” he said, turning and leaving the room.

Peter felt slightly guilty, since he knew he _would_ regret it, but that didn’t stop him from jumping off the couch as soon as he heard the of the elevator doors closing and sped walked toward the stairs that led to Tony’s penthouse, where he’d take the elevator. It felt like an invasion of privacy to enter Mr. Stark’s private rooms, but he was only using the elevator.

He made it to the street without being stopped, counting it as a win and hailed a cab around the corner since he didn’t think he’d make it to the train, especially since he was already winded. Peter had made sure to take his portable nebulizer, since he couldn’t take his oxygen tank due to not being able to fit his costume inside of the backpack that had his oxygen tank. So, he made sure he was dropped off as close as possible, which was the west side of Central Park, close to Tavern On The Green. Peter made sure not to hurry despite wanting to get to his friends quickly before they went into the haunted house without him. He followed the signs for the haunted house, even if he knew where Sheep Meadow was located, starting to feel excited as he looked around for Ned and the others.

“Peter!” he heard Ned call his name, and he saw him and the rest of the team. A smile lifted his lips as he saw them, laughing a bit at the costumes they had on.

Ned, of course, was dressed as Han Solo, and when he turned to say something to the others, he saw a sign that read ‘I Shot First’ pinned to his back. Peter grinned at that, knowing his and Ned’s outrage of them having changed that. MJ’s hair was made up into an Afro (or was it a wig?) and she had on a dress that looked to be from either the 70s or 80s. He’d ask her who she was supposed to be later, but for now looked at the rest of them.

Liz had on a black and gold sequin 20s Flapper dress, hair pinned up with a feather in it. Betty had on a Mario costume, but a skirt instead of pants and it looked good on them. It was Flash that had him stumped for a moment as he saw him in an all dark purple suit and what looked like a fez on his head. As he got closer and saw Lobby Boy on it, he realized why the costume had looked familiar; it was Zero from The Grand Budapest Hotel.

He had his own costume in his bag, which was a full body Chewbacca costume that matched with Ned’s Han Solo one. It had been expensive, but he’d been saving up since last Halloween, and they’d wear it again in December when the new Star Wars movie came out. Peter hadn’t changed before leaving since he would have drawn more attention to himself, so he was wearing a red striped t-shirt, with a dark blue faded hoodless jacket over it that only had a zipper that went to about chest level, and a pair of blue jeans. He hadn’t had time to even comb his hair, so his brown curls were a bit tousled.

As he was about to go change into his costume in the bathroom, a hand caught hold of his arm and he flinched as he turned, but it wasn’t who he expected. It was Mr. Stark and he looked absolutely livid. “What the hell are you thinking?” the man snapped angrily.

Peter opened and closed his mouth in surprise, since while he’d seen Mr. Stark angry before, he had never been angry at _him_. “H-how’d you find me so fast?” he blurted instead of apologizing as he’d been intending. And really, the man had gotten here way too fast, thinking he’d have at least had enough time to go through the haunted house once before he was busted.

The man looked unimpressed by his question. “You used my elevator, it sends an alert to my phone whenever it gets used if I’m not there,” he told him. His friends had seen the man with Peter and were making their way over toward them. “I told you it was too dangerous to go, and still, you hacked my private elevator so you could go behind my back to put your own safety and health at risk!”

“I didn’t hack it,” he told him. “I figured out the code.” Peter pulled his arm away, sick and tired of being treated like he was going to break. He hadn’t asked to be sick, and now Mr. Stark was treating him like an invalid that couldn’t go out by himself. Petet knew he’d acted rashly, but he and Ned had been planning this since last year. There hadn’t been talk of a haunted house, but they had definitely been planning their costumes since last year, both of them having a love for Star Wars.

“As if that’s any better,” the man hissed. “Look at you, you can barely breathe.” He pulled the backpack he hadn’t even realized he had off his back, and saw it was Peter’s oxygen tank.

“I’m fine,” he grumbled. Although, he was indeed starting to feel lightheaded, but he wasn’t going to admit the man was right. If he did, then he’d have to admit that being locked up was the right thing too. And perhaps he hadn’t thought this through, but he was just so tired of being afraid and putting his life on hold because of it.

Mr. Stark snorted. “Yeah, I can certainly see you have it all under control,” he said sarcastically. He’d never been on the receiving end of the man’s sharp tongue, and he found that he didn’t like it.

The teenager was forced to use his inhaler, as if proving Mr. Stark’s point. “I’m sick of being locked up,” he said after he’d recovered. “I told you that Ned and I were planning this for a whole year, but you and May didn’t even care. You say you wanna protect me, but your idea of protecting me is to keep my locked up like a prisoner!”

“Because that bastard is still out there-”

“No, he’s not!” Peter cut him off. “You just think he’s still here, but he’s probably long gone by now!”

Mr. Stark was getting more angrier, he could tell, but Peter wasn’t going to back down. If he did, he’d wind up not being able to leave the tower for the rest of the weekend and any other weekend for the foreseeable future. “Because you know this for a fact? After all, what do I know compared to a fifteen year old kid, right?” He pointed at his friends that had reached them by this point, MJ and Liz glancing at the man, Ned looking at his friend who was looking down with embarrassment at being grilled in front of his friends. “And you’re also putting your friends in danger if Christopher shows up!”

Peter cringed as he said that, not even having thought of that. “I-I’m sorry, I d-didn’t-”

“No, this is where you zip it,” Mr. Stark snapped, “the adult is talking!”

The adolescent nodded, not able to even look at his friends in that moment. “You’re going back to the tower right now,” he said, grabbing his backpack from him that he’d taken off his shoulders in anticipation of going to change into his costume.

“I mean, he’s already here, Mr. Stark,” Ned spoke up, and Peter glanced at him gratefully as he tried to discreetly wipe at his eyes. The others noticed but didn’t comment on it, even Flash. Peter knew that there was more to the other than what he showed, and since they’d started to hang out more, he knew that things weren’t perfect at home. “Maybe we could go through the haunted house one time?”

Tony shook his head. “I don’t reward bad behavior,” he told the other.

Peter snatched his bag back, having had enough of being embarrassed in front of his friends. “I can do what I want! You’re not my father!” Peter told him.

He wanted to take the words back as soon as he said them at seeing the hurt on the man’s face, but he couldn’t. “You’re right,” he man said, voice gruff with emotion. “Because no child of mine would be so stupid as to endanger their safety, as well as the safety of others!”

The words were like a stab right through his heart, and he knew he deserved it. He’d started to delude himself into thinking that the man could be more than a mere mentor. That even if he’d wanted the man to be his father, he knew that he wasn’t.

Peter couldn’t stop the sob that escaped his mouth as he turned and rushed off, ashamed of himself and the trouble he’d caused Mr. Stark and his friends. He ran blindly through the crowd of people that were around them, more than their group had anticipated on a Friday, and it was starting to get dark. Peter thought he heard Mr. Stark call his name, but he didn’t want to hear it. He wanted to be alone and cry, and when he’d calmed down, maybe he’d be able to face the man then.

He didn’t get too far, crouched down as he leaned against the back of the haunted house as he tried to catch his breath, wiping his face of the tears that refuse to stop. It was a few minutes before he was finally able to calm down. He heard the crunch of leaves and sighed, and should have known that it wouldn’t take long for Mr. Stark to find him. “M’sorry, Mr. Stark,” he sniffled, lifting his face to look at the man as he stopped in front of him. “I-“

The cold hand of terror gripped his heart when he realized it wasn’t Mr. Stark, it was Christopher. He opened his mouth to cry out or scream for help, but his hand shot out and clamped over Peter’s mouth with a bruising grip. “Ah ah,” the man chuckled, “no ruining the fun.”

He forcibly dragged Peter up and then pulled him away from the haunted house, his backpack still on the ground but the man kicked it to the side. Neither noticed the dark-skinned girl in the Afro wig watching from the corner. She pulled out her phone and dialed, not 911, but another number.

“Hello, who is this?” a voice snapped.

“Track my phone, Stark. Some guy just made off with Peter, and I’m pretty sure it’s Chris.” The man cursed on the other end, but MJ was too busy hurrying after the two retreating figures before she lost sight of them.

_8:25pm_

Peter was crying the whole time the man is dragging him further into the park, trying to keep quiet. Usually, he’d have been shouting for help, but the first time he’d tried, the press of cold steal had dried the words in his throat. “If you scream, I’ll slit your fucking throat,” the man had snarled in his ear.

So, he’d wisely kept his mouth shut even as tears continued to run down his face as he stumbled beside him as the man continued to yank him along. He’d tripped a few times accidentally, and once or twice intentionally, hoping that maybe he’d be able to get loose. However, Chris had just forcibly dragged him back up without once releasing his grip on him. He tried not to think of where the man was taking him, scared of what was going to happen to him once they reached their destination.

Before when the man had attacked him, he’d had Riley with him and he wasn’t completely alone, so he’d had enough courage to fight the man. Now, he was utterly alone and the fear froze his limbs and his brain.

“Please, let me go,” Peter whimpered, feeling his chest squeezing in what was most likely a panic attack instead of an asthma attack.

His fingers tightened around his arm painfully, knowing he’d have bruises there later. “No, I’m not going to do that. We’re going to have some _fun_ , bud,” he taunted. He felt his grip get tighter whenever they passed someone, feeling the sharp prick or something at his back in warning. So, he kept his mouth shut even if he wanted to shout for someone to help him.

He couldn’t even look behind them, the other forcing him to walk just a little in front of him, but the sounds of people walking past them started to die down as the sun had gone completely down. Even then, the sound of the trees moving in the breeze and their own footsteps crunching over fallen leaves was loud in his ears. They weren’t taking the normal path, making sure to stick to the trees that surrounded Sheep Meadow and at one point they came out onto Heckscher Ballfields, but he’d forced them into the streets as they went south.

They’d gone around the ballfields when the first indication that they were being followed caught the man’s attention, and Peter wasn’t sure if he was relieved or terrified to see MJ. Chris saw her two and then he was bringing the knife in his hand up to his throat, making the dark-skinned girl freeze. “Go back, little girl,” he growled, “or I’ll cut his throat.”

MJ’s eyes were wide as she lifted her hands, not able to do anything but watch Chris continue to drag Peter away through the trees toward Rat Rock, or Umpire Rock. “Michelle!” a voice called and she turned to see Tony Stark rush out of the trees, followed by a man in police riot gear. “Where-?”

She pointed toward Umpire Rock. “That way... he has a knife at his throat,” she told him, voice shaking slightly in fear for her friend.

Tony’s eyes went wide. “Steve,” he said as he looked at the blonde man. Steve nodded and spoke into the radio, calling for his team to converge on and surround Umpire Rock. He paused as he lifted his phone, Peter’s emergency signal starting to beep and he must have been able to push the button without Chris realizing it. “Stay here,” Stark told her, then both men rushed off.

As they came within sight of Rat Rock, Tony’s heart just about stopped in his chest when he saw the bastard with his kid in his arm, the blade of a very sharp looking knife at his vulnerable throat. “Peter!” The teenager sobbed in relief when he saw him, calling his name. Christopher dragged him back, further up the gargantuan rock, and Tony could hear Steve talking into the radio behind him.

“Let the boy go!” Steve called, “you’re surrounded!”

“Get back! I’ll cut his fucking throat! Get back!” Chris screamed, pulling the crying teenager closer against him, using him as a shield.

Steve cursed under his breath, knowing it would be hard to get a shot with all the trees that surrounded Umpire Rock. He had been on the radio with the snipers, Fury having brought them in as soon as he knew the threat to a child’s life. They’d been ordered to take out the suspect if they had a clear shot, but it’d be a difficult shot. Besides, that knife was pressing mighty close to the boy’s neck ,and they couldn’t risk shooting him and the suspect jerked with the knife so close to his throat.

He had no choice to call back some of his team, Tony looking at him in disbelief. “He’ll hurt Peter if I don’t,” he told him. “Bucky has him in his sights,” he reassured him. Steve knew if anyone had a chance of getting the shot, it’d be his friend, who was the best sniper they had.

Meanwhile, up on the large rock, Chris ducked down to whisper in Peter’s ear. “See, no one is going to save you,” he snarled.

Peter felt the pressure slacken on his throat and knew it was now or never, lifting his hand and shoving Chris’s arm up to get the knife further away. Then he jerked his head back, hearing the crunch of the man’s nose breaking as he head butted him.

The man howled in pain and Peter tried to duck to avoid Chris’s wild grab, and he suddenly heard a sharp pop and the whiz of something passing at high-speeds. Chris made a choking sound as Peter felt his hand close around the collar of his jacket, and he gave a cry as he was yanked back with the man as he toppled off Umpire Rock.

He saw the sky, blocked by the branches of the trees, and then the ground rushed up to meet him. Peter felt agony explode in his head before everything went dark.

Peter gasped as he stumbled to the side, hand going to is head, but there was nothing there; he was fine! At least, that’s what he thought until he turned and froze as he saw himself, laying next to a clearly dead Christopher, and there was so much blood. Peter couldn’t tell where it was coming from; Chris’s head that had a hole between his eyes, or his own head that had impacted a rock on the way down.

 _‘I’m... I’m dead?’_ he whispered, staring in horror at his body. His eyes were drawn away from himself and to a figure standing where the man lay, and realized it was Chris. He looked unharmed, but... he was see through and the link connecting him to his body had been severed.

 _‘What the fuck?’_ the man gasped, staring down in horror at his dead body.

 _‘You’re dead, Chris,’_ he called out. The man’s eyes snapped toward him, widening before looking down at Peter’s body. They both stepped back as several police officers and a medical team rushed toward their bodies. They didn’t notice the shadows starting to gather.

 _‘We’re dead?’_ Chris asked, a grin lifting his lips. _‘You’re dead too.’_

“I got a pulse!” one of the EMTs shouted that was working on Peter.

Peter grinned at the man. _‘No, I’m alive.’_

The man —or rather, the ghost that had once been a man— gave a growl and moved toward him with hands outstretched, and Peter stepped back in alarm. Before he could touch him, however, the shadows were suddenly upon Chris, a horrible sound like moaning coming from them. Peter covered his ears to try and block out the horrible sound.

 _‘What... what is that?’_ Chris demanded.

Peter watched with wide eyes, not even paying attention to the living people starting to load his body onto a stretcher. He was too busy staring at the things that started to grab Chris, the man shouting in terror. _**‘GET AWAY! NO!’**_

The teenager couldn’t tear his eyes away from them as they dragged the protesting Chris deeper into the shadows cast by the trees that surrounded them, and the night that appeared more sinister now. He had tried to stay still and quiet the whole time, not wanting them to see him, but several paused and glanced at him. At least, he thought they did, but he couldn’t see any faces on them that he could tell.

They were suddenly moving toward him as Peter felt fear fill him, and the closer they got, the clearer he could see them. Some appeared to be wearing clothes from the past, tattered and dirty. They appeared thin and sickly looking, and their eyes were a soulless black that terrified him. When they reached out to touch him, Peter screamed, and he was suddenly moving.

He staggered, looking around frantically as he tried to see if those things were anywhere. Peter was confused when he realized he wasn’t in Central Park anymore... he was... in his apartment? He was baffled, not knowing how he’d managed to get here. His hands moved over himself, but there was nothing wrong with him that he could see.

Peter realized that he’d jumped again, like in the hospital when he’d met Wade. He wasn’t sure how he’d done it, but only feeling terrified and wanting to be somewhere safe. The fifteen year old guessed that he still, on some level, thought this place was safe. Even if Chris had killed Hailey here...

The boy froze as he turned toward the hallway that led to his room, thinking he saw something. He knew he shouldn’t go, that it was dangerous, but he had to know. _‘Hailey?’_ Peter called, voice trembling.

A soft sobbing reached his ears as he got closer, his eyes darting around the hallway as he entered it. His heart would have been pounding really fast if he had a heart in that moment, and even if he didn’t have a body, he felt himself shaking. The light of his aura was quivering as well, causing the walls to feel like they were moving.

Peter bit back a cry as a person came out of the door at the end of the hallway, his bedroom. The figure was unmistakable, who was weeping quietly and wearing the clothes in the memory he’d gotten from Chris before he’d killed her; a pair of blue jean shorts with a white short-sleeved shirt with a bleeding black and yellow heart on it, and some black vans.

Hailey was beautiful and terrifying at the same time, her shoulder length hair and attractive freckled face just like Peter remembered. _‘Where are you, Riley?’_ she sobbed in a haunting voice that made Peter stagger back as she came closer.

 _‘Hailey,’_ he wept as she got closer. _‘He’s gone... he left.’_

Her face contorted in anger at his words, and unexpectedly lunged at him. Peter suddenly remembered Wade’s words.

_**‘If you let them in, they’ll attach themselves to you like leeches, sucking away at your aura, you life... Don’t touch them, don’t talk to them. Don’t even look at them.’** _

_‘Give him back to me!’_ she shrieked, and he could feel her hands grab hold of him, and it hurt. He screamed as she tried to move her face closer to his.

 _’Hailey, please!’_ he cried out, trying to dislodge her as they fell to the floor, the same floor where Chris had strangled her. _‘Chris... he hurt you! But he’s dead!’_

He wondered why she was doing this, having thought that Hailey was his friend. Hailey screamed louder at the mention of the man, the sound hurting his ears and she reached for him again to hurt him once more.

_**‘No!’** _

He concentrated all his energy into jumping, back to Central Park and his body. Peter felt himself get almost violently jerked away from the dead girl’s hold and then he was landing hard just beside Umpire rock once again.

He collapsed to the ground in exhaustion, everything starting to get dark, and before it all faded away he noticed one very important thing, his physical body was gone.

\- ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

_November 02, 2015, 6:56am (97th floor of Stark Tower)_

Tony walked into Peter’s room, having already see through the glass walls that May had spent another night in the chair next to his bed. He was loath to wake her up, but he knew she had a shift at 8am and knew she’d have to get a shower and get ready.

When she woke, she leaned over and pressed a kiss to Peter’s forehead, the boy looking tiny in the large bed while attached to all the machines. “I’ll be back, baby,” May whispered to him, but there was no response from the fifteen year old.

She left as she wiped her eyes. Tony sighed as he took up the seat next to Peter’s bed that May had vacated, looking at his slack face and then the nasogastric feeding tube they’d been forced to put in. Peter hadn’t woken, even after the surgery to relieve pressure around his brain. Tony had used that speed dial he’d once said he had and called Dr. Stephan Strange, and had only come when Tony had agreed to pay double his usual pay rate.

The man hadn’t given them a time on when Peter would wake, but that he’d done all he could to relieve the bleeding on his brain. Now, it was just a waiting game, and for them to be prepared for when he woke up since Peter would likely not even recognize them as he recovered. The thought of Peter waking and not recognizing May kept the woman up at night when she should be sleeping, and if Tony was honest, it tortured him as well.

It especially haunted him because of the last words he’d said to him before he’d been taken by Chris. He blamed himself for that too, since he’d driven him away with what he had said.

So, he hoped Peter woke up soon, so he could apologize to him.

\- ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

It was dark... it was so dark. He didn’t know where he was at. All he knew was the dark. He didn’t even know who he was, not his name or anything else.

He was alone in the dark.

\- ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

_December 20, 2015, 8:23pm_

May sighed as he sat down beside Peter’s bed after her shower, feeling tired from a long twelve-hour shift. Even then, she picked up a book on the table next to her, a bookmark saving her place. There were several books there as well, a book of poems by W.B. Yeats that she sometimes read to him.

Now, she opened the one she was sure she’d likely read to him again when she’d finished.

“ _‘Boy,’_ ” May started to read, “ _she said courteously, ‘why are you crying?’_

_Peter could be exceeding polite also, having learned the grand manner at fairy ceremonies, and he rose and bowed to her beautifully. She was much pleased, and bowed beautifully to him from the bed._

_‘What's your name?’ he asked._

_‘Wendy Moira Angela Darling,’ she replied with some satisfaction. ‘What is your name?’_

_‘Peter Pan.’_ ”

\- ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

At times there were strange creatures that came from the darkness if he shined too brightly, and he had to run away. He could pass straight through objects if he needed to, but so could they. The boy didn’t know what they were, only that he was afraid of them.

 _‘What_ _is your name?’_ he heard a voice ask in his ear. He knew this voice, it was soft and it felt safe, and it didn’t make him afraid. Oftentimes, it said weird things to him and sometimes he couldn’t really hear it, but it was there.

 _‘I don’t know!’_ he called out desperately. _‘I’ve forgotten!’_

The voice came again, stronger this time. _‘Peter...’_

 _‘Peter,’_ he whispered. It sounded nice, and the voice said it was his name. Peter... that was his name. He was Peter.

So, Peter held onto that with all of his strength in the darkness that surrounded him, and the strange shapes that tried to attack him.

His head tilted as the voice came again, like the wind through the trees. _‘And so... there ought to be one fairy for every boy and girl...’_

Peter was baffled. A fairy? So, that meant there were a lot of them?

He listened attentively when the voice came again. _‘...the children who fall out of their perambulators when the nurse is looking the other way. If they are not claimed in seven days they are sent far away to the Neverland...’_

 _ _ _’__ Oh!’ _Peter exclaimed. That was what was here, chasing him... fairies! They were trying to take him away from the soft voice, steal him away to Neverland!

Maybe... maybe they had already stolen him away? And this dark world he resided in now was Neverland. If so, he needed to escape! Peter needed to escape from the fairies!

__\- ~ - ~ - ~ - ~_ _

Peter giggled as he dodged the grab of the fairy, hearing it shriek angrily and try again, but he too fast for it. He was growing bored and decided to fly away to another place. He landed on a large open field, lifting his face toward the sky that was dark for him, but he’d seen others do this with a smile. So, he assumed it felt nice, if he were like them.

There were others here, those that couldn’t see him, no matter how many times he called out to them. They were beyond his reach and he dared not touch them, because they became a part of him and he tended to forget who he was.

Peter didn’t want to forget, not again. He was Peter and he’d been stolen by fairies to Neverland, a dark world. The fairies had stolen him and took to the second star to the right, and straight on till morning. He knew this because the voice had told him.

At times, Peter thought he knew what the voice was called, it was just out of reach, but he could never remember. Maybe this was his mother, or someone that cared about him that wanted him to come back. Only, Peter didn’t know how to do that. How did one escape Neverland?

Especially, when no one could hear or see him, no matter how many times he called out to them.

__\- ~ - ~ - ~ - ~_ _

Peter’s head tilted curiously as he saw a boy getting close to his rock. It was a very big rock and anyone that came closer, he always tried to call out to them. They never saw him though and he’d stopped trying a long time ago.

It was just, that this boy looked different. Everyone was bright with colors, but his was more radiant than all of them. He saw several fairies lurking by notice him and they skulked after him. Peter became alarmed, knowing they would steal him away. He had to do something!

He flew to where he was, knowing he had enough energy to fly several times before he got tired. Now, he was right over the boy, and he saw the fairies coming closer.

 _‘Hi!’_ he called out to the fairies, hoping they’d be distracted with him, since the boy couldn’t see or hear him anyways. So, he was thoroughly shocked when the beautifully brilliant boy made a noise of shock and looked up and right at him!

“Hey?”

Peter grinned at him, because he could see him! For a moment forgot about the fairies creeping closer.

“What are you doing up there?” the boy asked curiously, eyes narrowed on him as he tiled his head back.

Peter shrugged as he crouched down, gripping the rock like a bird of prey, unable to keep from looking down at him because of how bright he was. _‘I dunno, I like being up high. What’s your name? I’m Peter.’_

The other frowned. “Uh, I’m Harley. How’d you get to there?”

Peter looked around and pointed to the left, distracted as he remembered the fairies getting closer _ _ _.__ ‘That way, maybe?’ _He shrugged again, grin still in place so as not to frighten Harley. He hoped he went the way he pointed, so he’d move away from the shadowy figures getting dangerously close to him _ _ _.__ ‘It’s getting dark though, so maybe you should go home. The weirdos come out at night,’_ he said, hoping that would make him go.

Harley had stepped around as if about to go around Peter’s rock. “What about you? You look like you’re twelve.”

Peter scowled at him angrily, his whole body tensing angrily. _‘Hardly!’_ he finally scoffed, relaxing a moment later. He swayed back and forth in his crouch, grinning at him. _‘I’m one of those weirdos... better run home to your mommy.’_

Harley scowled and Peter enjoyed the way his light flickered so prettily. “Shut the fuck up,” he growled, bending down to pick up a rock to probably throw at him. However, he had to jump away as one of the fairies reached Peter, giggling as they left Harley alone to chase him. “Where’d you go?” Harley shouted after him, making Peter frown as the fairies started to go after the boy again.

So, he started to sing to keep their attention on him. _‘We are small but we are many, we are many we are small.’_

It was a shame that Harley could hear him as well, since he seemed to get scared by the singing. “Hey, man, what’re ya doing?” Peter used some of his precious energy to shove some pebbles down toward Harley, who flinched back and out of the path of a fairy that was reaching for him.

 _'We were here before you rose,’_ he sang, flying a fourth time to avoid a swipe, hoping Harley left soon before he completely exhausted himself. Harley wouldn’t understand if he told him about the fairies, obviously not able to see them. So, his only option was to scare him away.

“Stop it!”

_‘We will be here when you fall!’_

He saw a shape about to go over the edge of his rock, and he flew the last time he was able to, and he heard more than saw Harley throw something, skipping away from the shadowy fairy that made a grab for him as he laughed. They got angrier when he taunted them. He paused as he heard rapidly fading footsteps, and glanced down a moment to watch the beautiful boy run away.

Peter sighed sadly. He was alone, again.

Peter decided in that moment, that if he ever saw Harley again, he would steal him for himself. He would steal Harley the way Peter had been stolen away, and Harley would be his.

That way, Peter would never be alone again.-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, how was it?? For those that haven’t read Second Star To The Right, you won’t get the ending. So, go read that, now. Lol thanks for sticking with me this far! Cheers!
> 
> PS: MJ is dressed as a young bell hooks.

**Author's Note:**

> Come yell at me on my instagram: [@phiodmuse](https://www.instagram.com/phiodmuse/)
> 
> Or my tumblr: [name-me-regret](https://name-me-regret.tumblr.com/)


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